


Dependency

by agesofaquarius



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Colonist (Mass Effect), F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Suicide, Where Shepard Meets Garrus Before ME1, phonophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6127960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agesofaquarius/pseuds/agesofaquarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was just some drunken woman he had arrested one night. Just another report to file and another crime to add to his resume. Just another face in the millions that lived around him. </p><p>She made sure to prove him wrong. </p><p>'Inspired by the song Neon Cathedrals by Macklemore ft. Allen Stone'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Sing Broken Hymns

When he agreed to cover Velio's night shift in return for taking the next one off, he wasn't expecting too much activity. The occasional petty theft and fight between Krogans was to be predicted, as it was every shift he was on. This time of the C-Week was always slow, as he had come to notice during his few months as a C-Sec officer, simply because this was the beginning of the work week and fewer ships were docked, meaning most Citadel citizens were able to keep to themselves. Save for the few mercs and duct rats, but that was on a case-by-case speculation.  

Imagine his surprise when he gets a call over his comm of a 'drunk and disorderly complaint' at one of the bars not too far from his patrol. 

"I'll handle it," he grumbles into his feed, getting an affirmative from the central comm link.  

Good cop or bad cop? 

He thinks on it, boots _thump_ ing against the metallic flooring. He takes the stairs two a time, down to the next level.  

The entrance of the bar slides open as he passes in front of the motion sensor, and he has to quickly duck at a flying chair going for his face. He grunts as he comes to a hard stop from rolling out of the way, the chair clanging as it slides across the floor. The few citizens around scatter at the first sign of trouble. 

There's shouting and more loud clangs of chairs coming from the bar.  

He peaks around the opening of the door, taking in the situation. 

The guests are either crowded into corners, out of the way of the attacking person, or ducking behind the bar. The bouncer, a burley Krogan, is doing his best to get to the attacking human – _of course it's a damn human –_ but he only seems to be making it worse.  

The human, a female from the way her clothes cling to her body and hair reaches half way down her back, is shouting out obscenities. It makes his translator crackle in his ear. He has to shake his head to clear out the static in his ear and pulls his pistol from his holster. With the safety still on (Spirits-forbid he has to shoot the woman, the amount of paperwork will drown him for a week straight) he moves into the bar and uses an upright table as a shield.  

"Citadel Security!" He yells, voice carrying over the droning music. The Krogan turns with a sneer, his expression saying 'I've got this', even though he clearly didn't. The woman throws another chair, arms flexing with the heavy muscle as she tosses it overhead like it’s a pillow. It slams into the Krogan, but only angers him further. 

"Get the f- _zxfyzhckzwz_ _-_ away from me you filthy deranged space weevil!" She shouts, picking up another chair to throw before the Krogan charges forward.  

 _Of course the K_ _rogan_ _would charge her._  

She rolls out of the way, dropping the chair as she does. The Krogan hits the wall, barely fazed by the dent left behind. She picks up the nearest thing – a bottle of cheap malt liquor – and throws it at him. The bottle shatters against the Krogan's hard skin, splattering alcohol on him.  

He opens his comm to call into C-Sec to request backup. And preferably a sedative. She wasn't going to come quietly.  

Slipping around the table, pistol in hand but pointed down, he finds that she has her back turned to him. She picks up another drink, arching her arm back to propel the glass object toward the Krogan. He sees his opening.  

He pushes himself forward and tackles the human to the ground. She shouts in protest, arms flailing as he grabs at her wrists to hook them into his cuffs he pulls from his belt. He closes the comm. 

She protests loudly, translator fizzling again at her obscene language, as he straddles the back of her thighs, forcing her hands into the cuffs against the small of her back.  

"Who the f- _zxfyzhckzwz_ _-_ do you think you are?!" She protests, wiggling under his weight but going nowhere. She may be strong, but in her inebriated state she can't do much. "I'm a f- _zxfyzhckzwz_ _-_ _ing_ _N5_ _!_ Get the hell off me you f- _zxfyzhckzwz_ _-_ _er_ _!"_  

He grunts, not impressed by whatever nonsense she spouts out. There's no way this drunkard could be that high up in the Alliance military. No way. 

"Toni, you _idiot_." 

He stands and pulls the woman up to her feet. She staggers, obviously not ready for the quick movement. He turns to the person behind him, _another_  human, who is shaking their head at the sight of the woman. She seems to calm, which is helpful, almost looking embarrassed.  

"Hey," she slurs, her anger sinking into sheepishness. "You found me." 

"I just had to look for the path of destruction you left," they say, waving toward the chair some feet away and the group of citizens who gathered around to see the mess. He could see other C-Sec officers coming his way. They turn to him. "She's going to be detained, isn't she?" He nods, and the they sigh. "Good. She needs to sweat it out. I'll be there in the morning to bail her out." 

"That is if we don't press charges," a bartender says from behind the counter.  

"That is if they don't press charges," he echoes, looking back at the woman's companion. The woman has gone slack in her hands. "C'mon. To the hot box." 

They rarely ever used the hot box, but when they did, it was an office-wide event. Especially if it was a human or an Asari. They had similar body functions and would sweat out the alcohol. Very interesting to species like a Turian or Krogan who had thick, plate-like skin covering them.  

The woman, thankfully, doesn't fight him as he pushes her along. He nods to the other officers who are taking care of the crowd, dispersing them back into their stores and homes. He is forced to walk slower than he would like, her shorter legs not quite keeping up with his pace, as well as the stumble she does every few steps.  

Half way to the holding cells, she finally speaks up. 

"You going to read me my rights?" She slurs, and he almost hits himself for leaving out that small bit.  

"You have the right to remain silent-" 

"No need. I was an idiot. I'm not going to sue you or your precious C-Sec." 

No more was said on the walk. He would have gotten a transport pod, but it wasn't worth having to wait when they could make it to the offices in the time it would be to wait for a pod.  

Once in the booking offices, he waved off the intern who was ready to fill out the report. He would worry about the paper work. At least it would give him something to do. They sat in his small cubicle, his chair hard under his light armor, but he had worse. She sat across, arms now uncuffed and fingering the ends of her long hair. Once her fingerprints had been taken and her identity confirmed, he began writing his report. He wouldn't be able to submit it until he got a statement from the bartender and bouncer, but he would get a chunk of it now.  

Needless to say, he was surprised to find that she was indeed a N5. Lieutenant Antonia Shepard, soldier of the Alliance military and currently on a six week shore leave while in between assignments. _And they felt the need to leave her here, why?_  

He grumble to himself, chest shaking at the subharmonics of his annoyance. She looked up suddenly at him, blinking quickly and shoving a finger in her ear at the sudden sound. 

"Was that you?" She asked, looking at him. Her cheeks were still flushed a bright red, which looked strange against her dark skin. His surprise must have shown from the look she gave him.  

"Was what me?" He asked, and purposefully made another trill of vibrations deep in his belly. Her eyes opened up a little more. 

"That! That, like... vibration thing you're doing. Stop it, it's annoying." 

"You can hear that?" 

His brow ridge rose up in question. 

"Yeah. Should I not be able to?" 

He shook his head, large fingers pausing over the data pad on his desk. "Most humans can't hear Turian harmonics. The sounds are below your auditory senses." 

She gave him a weird look, the alcohol in her system slowing her thought process before she laughed dryly to herself. The woman tapped at her left ear, the appendage as red as her cheeks. "Experimental hearing aids," she says. "I was on a mission and..." She paused, her breath catching in her throat. He could hear her heart rate increase. Her lazy eyes seemed to gloss over for a moment. She took a deep, shakey breath.  

"Left me deaf," she finished, the words cracking in the back of her throat. She swallowed a knot there, her throat stretching over the saliva as it went down. "Said I'd never hear again. Classified." 

From the way her words cut through the air, he knew better than to question her on it anymore. He continued his report, listening out for any more of those sounds that made her body tense. He had never seen someone, especially a human, sober up so quickly.  

"What's your name?" She asked, voice soft, fingers still playing with the tips of her hair. He could see small braids spread out over the expanse of the ends.  

"Vakarian," he said, almost without pause. She mouthed out the syllables, no sounding coming out. "Officer Garrus Vakarian."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's give this a try: short updates multiple times a week!
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	2. Soaked in Gin

As much as he hated to admit it, even to just himself, she did surprise him. When they took a quick blood-alcohol level test during her booking, she should have been unconscious at the amount she had in her bloodstream, but she passed a field-vision and balance test like she hadn’t had a drink her entire life.

_Alliance N5 training makes you stay awake for 72 hours straight_ , she had said. _That’s equivalent to being laced up with Red Sand and about three bottles of Krogan whiskey._

They didn’t put her in the hot box, much to another officer’s disappointment, but she did sit in a cell while Garrus waited for a statement from the bartender. She had caused quite a fuss in the wards, and he had a feeling they would press charges.

As he waited, he snuck a glance at what he could of her public file. Since she was high up in the Alliance military, some of her missions were classified, something that frustrated him to no end, but it also made him curious.

The Turian glanced down at the vid feed coming to his data pad of the woman’s cell. She was sitting on the bunk, legs crossed under her and hands up near her chest to braid, unbraid, and rebraid her hair over and over again. Who knew how long he had been watching her, the way her chest rose under the tight sleeveless shirt she wore, pants taunt against her muscular thighs and calves. There was a dark mark painted on her skin; it stretched from underneath her top to across both shoulders and down to cover most of her left arm.

He couldn’t make out the design from the blurry feed, and he had completely ignored it when booking her earlier.

“Got yourself a trouble-maker, Vakarian?”

He looked up from the feed, eyes focusing on his cubicle-mate as the fellow Turian sat in his chair. Garrus flicked a mandible in annoyance. Sevro held his hands up in defeat, leaving his fellow officer alone. Garrus felt the vibrations of annoyance again before turning the vid back on and watching.

She was no longer braiding her hair, but instead pacing the room. There was a sheen of sweat on her face and arms, and her skin looked pale under the florescent lighting.

He watched her, confused at the sudden change of her posture before she ran for the small toiletry facility in the corner of the cell and doubled over. Garrus cursed loudly, body humming with a mix of worry and urgency as he kicked himself out of his chair and ran for the cells.

Garrus pressed harder on the keypad that was necessary as he tried to get the door open, and he squeezed through the slowly moving doors once unlocked.

She was on her knees now, retching into the toilet bowl at an alarming rate. He could smell the acidic twang of her stomach fluids sloshing in the bowl. He opened his comm.

“I need a medical assistant in cell block J, holding number two-five-one.”

He rested a hand on the woman’s back, frowning at the moisture that soaked through her shirt and into his glove. She groaned lowly, the sound making him trill in worry again. She tensed up at the sound, and glanced over her shoulder at him. It was then that he noticed the thick scar across the bridge of her nose and both cheeks. There was also another small marking just behind her left ear.

**49.**

“It would be foolish of me to ask if you are okay,” he grumbled, and she held a quick smirk before her cheeks relaxed and she rested her head on the cool metal of the bowl. Garrus flinched at the unhygienic motion, but could understand her need to cool off.

Her body temperature had rocketed up in the few moments of her sickness, making her skin clammy and flushed a sickly yellow.

At the sound of scurrying feet, Garrus looks up at the salarian medic that rushes in, med-bag clutched between its fingers.

“Move! Move!” he shouts, and Garrus simply puts a little pressure on her back, his way of saying he won’t be far, before standing out of the way. The medic pulls the Lieutenant from the bowl, muttering to himself as he flushes away the sick, before checking the woman’s vitals.

“I just had too much to drink,” she mutters, swatting away at the cold hand that checks her pulse. “I drank enough to get alcohol poisoning. Lucky for you, I don’t die so easily.” She swats at the medic again, a growl deep in her throat. It surprises both Garrus and the doctor. “You touch me again and I won’t be able to say the same for _you,_ you damn bilge slug.”

Garrus felt a mandible flick up in amusement at the insult. Where did she get all of them from? They were more humorous than degrading, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.

The salarian huffed in annoyance before gathering his things and leaving the cell. Garrus walked back over to the woman, offering a gloved hand. She took it, weakly getting to her feet, and it would have taken her longer to gather her balance if he hadn’t gripped her other arm to steady her.

“Thanks,” she hummed, staggering back to the bunk to lie down, cheek pressed against the cooling metal. “I just need to sleep it off. This happens every year.”

His mandibles quirked up, but she didn’t see.

“Every year?” he questioned, sitting on the edge of the bunk, elbows resting on his knees.

She nods, eyes closed and her arm acting as her pillow. He almost felt bad, but he couldn’t treat her any different. She was a criminal, public intoxication and drunken disorderliness. She would more than likely be charged and forced to pay a fine and go before a circuit court. It wouldn’t look very good on her file.

“Every year,” she repeats, fingers twitching against the surface. “Colony. Thresher Maw. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t see. So many dead.”

Her breath caught in her throat, almost like a sob, before her breathing evened out and she fell into a tense sleep.

Garrus sat there, contemplating what he had heard. Her file was blacked and he didn’t hold a high enough security clearance to see even the smallest of missions.

Back at his desk, he sat and waited, looking for anything to kill time as he held off on submitting his report. When the other officers finally returned, statements in hand, he was surprised to find that they wouldn’t press charges.

She was just forever banned from coming back.

Hours later, once his report had been sent in and he found a way to keep himself in the offices, Garrus was clocking out of his shift, and happy that there were no more knots in the night to get through, when a familiar face walked through the doors of the C-Sec offices.

They walked up to the front counter, speaking softly to the secretary.

“I’ve got this, Helani,” Garrus says to the Asari, and she nods to him, handing over the paperwork. He looks up at them over the counter. “Officer Vakarian. I’m the one that took in your friend.”

“Yeah, I know,” they say with a nod. “I recognize your facial markings. Max.” They offer a hand in greeting. Garrus, now use to human customs – to an extent – takes it in his gloved hand and gives it a firm shake before pulling away.

“Come, I’ll go get her. She should be awake now.”

Max nods, not questioning the officer.

Once to the holding cell, Garrus punches in his passcode and allows Max into the cell first. They walk over to bed, the Lieutenant still sound asleep. Her skin has its pink blush back, eyes are not so sunken in, and the scar across her nose seems to blend in with the rest of her complexion.

“Toni, wake up,” Max says gruffly, shaking the Lieutenant by her shoulder.

Toni is groggy, obviously hungover from the amount of alcohol still in her system and the dehydration from being sick just hours before, but gives Garrus a small smile and a nod as she stumbles out.

He rubs at the back of his neck, digging his fingers under his fringe and into the soft tissue, hoping to ease a headache that is starting to form.

Garrus leaves C-Sec for the next few shifts, going to his small apartment to fall into his comfortable bed and not wake up for a few extra sleep cycles than normal.

 

A week later, just as he’s coming in for his shift, Garrus finds an envelope on his desk. Inside it is a credit chit for one of the nicer Turian-based restaurants in the presidium, along with a note.

_Hope this makes up for all the trouble I gave you._

_-TS_

He quirks a mandible, a happy hum vibrating in his belly, before slipping the envelope into his pocket.


	3. Dusty

He leans casually against the bar, subvocals humming below the loud club music. The female in front of him, thin wavy colonial marks painting her facial plates in a deep purple, spoke as he watched. One of his gloved fingers trailed up and down her arm, the tip ghosting between the plates on her arms to touch the smooth, soft skin that he knew was sensitive.

Aemilia was her name, if he remembered correctly. A new intern in his section of C-Sec. He was so glad he had taken Velio up on the offer of applying to the Investigations sector. The first few months had been uneventful, mainly nothing but petty crimes and paper work for the higher detectives, but the day he got his first _good_ case, there was no stopping him.

His father drilled him worse than his immediate superior did, but Garrus took what his father said like a grain of sand.

Aemilia continued to talk, her mandibles flicking in amusement as he shamelessly flirts with her.

It had been a simple ‘want to go for drinks after your shift’ and here he was trying to seduce her back to his apartment.

And it was working, if her subharmonics told him anything.

They paused, however, as well as her spoken words, and her amber eyes looked past him across the bar. His own mandible twitched in question, and she hummed in amusement.

“Garrus, look at that human.”

He followed her eyes, surprised by the smugness that was laced in her voice. It wasn’t a good surprise.

Across the bar, sitting at a small table, was a female human with long dark hair and a bottle of Asari tequila in hand. In her other hand was the fist of a Krogan, a Batarian between them, counting down before letting go of their fists and watching as muscles strained. The human laughed, throwing back her head. He could see the strain in her body, the tension drawing up her neck and coating her face in red.

She drops the bottle on the table and uses her now free hand to grip the edge, putting all her weight on her feet as they press into the floor under her boots to keep her balance.

He can’t help but notice the dark ink rolling down her left arm, the side facing him. How could he have not recognized her sooner?

“Garrus?”

He turns back to Aemilia, eyes blinking quickly as he clears his mind.

How long had it been since he’d see the Lieutenant? A year, at the least.

_This happens every year._

He wants to chance a look, just to make sure it _is_ the same woman, but Aemilia doesn’t look pleased with his longer-than-necessary gaze. At the sound of loud cheering, he takes the chance for one last look.

She lost the arm-wrestling match, but she doesn’t look discouraged. She laughs just as loud, slaps the Krogan on the back and walks to the bar for his victory drink. The bartender takes the order and goes about making the round of drinks.

He catches her eye, then. They’re dark brown, the same shade as her hair, but in the shadow of the strobe lights they look black. The same endless, deep vastness of space. She doesn’t look surprised to see him, and grins as she lifts a shotglass in his direction, tilting her chin up before taking the ounce of straight liquor.

“Garrus!”

The Turian then realizes that he can’t wrangle himself out of this one.

“I’ll see you back at the office, Aemilia,” he tell her, standing and skirting around the bar.

She doesn’t seem surprised, either, when he walks up to her.

“Hello, Officer. I swear, I’m going to be an outstanding citizen tonight,” she says with a laugh, taking the three large glasses of colored liquor. “I don’t think your date appreciates you leaving her,” she says, nodding toward Aemilia.

Garrus doesn’t even bother looking back at his date, already feeling the glare and angry trill she is sending his way.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her over the music, following her back to her table. She sets down two of the glasses in front of the Krogan and Batarian, before sipping at her own cold drink.

“Trying to hustle these idiots out of their credits,” she replies, grinning drunkenly at him. He didn’t notice it earlier because of the strobe lights, but now that they’ve changed color, he catches the pink. “You?”

“Making sure you’re not going to start throwing chairs again.”

She has small droplets of liquid coming from her eyes, she laughs so hard.

 

Around final call, and when she had reached her night cap, Garrus finds himself with one of her arms around his shoulders, pressed against his cowl. He only had two drinks, knowing better than to drink the night away when he had an early shift the next day. The Lieutenant – sorry, the _Commander_ – had her fill and outdrank the Krogan she had made friends with.

She giggled under her breath at every stumble, making him shake his head at her as he came up to a transit kiosk. Garrus paused, now realizing he didn’t know where she lived.

“Shepard,” he grumbled, positioning her arm into a more comfortable spot. She mumble something about blue stars and red birds. “Shepard, I need your address to put into the car.”

“Shore leave,” she said, stumbling again, pulling away from him and pushing her hair off her neck. He could almost taste the sweat in the air. “Max went back to Earth. Just take me to the docks.”

Garrus wasn’t idiot enough to do something like that.

“Forget it, I have a couch. Just don’t vomit like you did last time.”

She giggles again, saying something about how he looks like an angry ‘shark’. What’s a shark? He would look it up on the extranet when he got the chance.

The ride on the transit was a tricky one. She kept unbuckling her harness – “Too tight, makes my stomach hurt.” – and whenever he took a sharp turn she would either slam into him or the window. The transition only took a few minutes at most, but by the time Garrus had landed the car, she was looking greener than was normal. He wasn’t an expert on humans, but even he knew that.

“Where are we?” she mumbled, words slurred and it took his translator some time to catch up. He grunted as he lifted her from the car and helped her stumble to his apartment complex. “We were just at the bar. Why’d you leave your date?”

Good question, Commander.

Garrus didn’t answer, simply swiped his keycard across the keypad beside the door and it opened almost immediately. Most days he would take the time to put in the code manually, but he didn’t have that spare time.

One elevator ride and a long hall way of stumbling later, she was spread out on his couch, cheek pressed against the cold leather. It felt nice against her hot skin, if her humming told him anything.

“What’s the ‘49’ mean?” he asked, setting a glass of water down on the coffee table in front of the couch, moving her legs over so to sit on the edge of the cushion. He felt a flash of the same thing happening last year.

“Did you get my card?” she slurred, eyes half-lidded and ears bright pink. His finger reached out and slowly traced the curve of her ear before falling on the slightly raised skin. ‘Tattoo,’ he remembered them being called. Some humans had them, some didn’t. Very popular with military and manual labor workers. Once controversial in more civilized societies, but the art of it had been around for thousands of years.

He nodded and she smiled, but her eyes finally closed and her breath evened out.

“Thanks,” she murmured, the word barely leaving her throat.

 **49**.

The number stared at him, and he tried to decipher what it could possibly mean.

“You need to clean up,” she said lastly, the tease playing in her tone, but eased into the beginnings of sleep. He would let her rest. She needed it.

He took in a huff of breath, put off by her remark. Garrus looked around his apartment. It was spotless, save for the small flecks of dust that sat on the top of the vid screen. He moved away from the couch and turned off the lights, leaving the hall light on dim in case she woke up in the middle of the night. He found his room without pause, but found it almost impossible to sleep.

Taking his personal data pad in hand, Garrus first researched what a ‘shark’ was – _he looked nothing like that!_ – before typing in the Commander’s name.

He felt his throat clench at the first link that popped up.

_Fifth Anniversary of Akuze Attack – Remembering the 49 Marines We Lost._

Garrus looked up, eyes watching the empty hall as the dim light filled every available crack. He looked for her silhouette, looked for her figure sprawled out on his couch.

She was just some human with an alcohol problem, at least that’s what he told himself over the past year whenever she would slip into his thoughts. But now?

Now she was beginning to prove him wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Super Tuesday! Don't forget to vote, fellow Americans.  
> #FeelTheBern
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	4. Pickpocket Your Heart

_Heart beat in her throat. Acid in her eyes. The loud screech of death as it loomed over her._

_Hernandez was screaming, My legs! My legs!_

_Youngblood sobbed beside her, rifle clutched to his chest like it was his last hope at life._

_It was._

_They lost two squads in the first half hour. Half of her own platoon was on the brink as well, one part soaked in acid while the others did their best to fight off the Maw._

_The screams. Oh, the screams. She didn’t know which was worse – her mates or the beast that was killing them one by one._

_Shepard. Shepard!_

_She couldn’t move, but everything else was in a constant state of motion. The whole world shook every time the Maw rose from the thick sand or fell back to stalk its prey again. Soldiers were running, throwing overheated rifles out of the way and grabbed a new one that was fully charged._

_Shepard!_

_She looked up. Toombs was telling her to move. A convoy was on its way. Move. Move move move move. Move!_

_With a few shaking steps, it was when that she noticed the darkness of her vision even though it was the middle of the day. Why was everything so dark? Why couldn’t she hear their screams anymore?_

_She brought her hand up to her face. The fingertips stung and she brought them into her eyesight. The dark green acid was mixed in with her blood. It had burned straight through her nerves. Her eyesight got darker. Darker._

_Black._

_Nothingness._

_Move, Shepard, move! Move, Shepard, move! Move, Shepard, move! Move, Shepard, move! Move, Shep-_

_She lifted her rifle to her chest with one arm and reached out for Toombs’ hand. He took it, and the half dozen of the troop left took off running. She couldn’t hear the shuttle, but she could feel the vibrations in the air as the hover-pods thrummed. They were close. The Maw was closer._

_Don’t stop running, Shepard!_

_She didn’t. She felt Toombs let go, but she did as he said. Everything was dark. There was no sound but the pressure of the blood pumping through her brain. She felt for the shuttle, smelled the fuel over the crispness of the acid on her face and the blood on her cheeks. Don’t stop, Shepard. Don’t stop._

_Two hands came out and grabbed for her, pulling her weight into the shuttle. She couldn’t hear the yelling, but she could feel their words against her hands, and their orders on the tips of her dead fingers. She shook like a leaf in a hurricane, skin chilled from shock. There was a blanket put on top of her, but the cold floor of the shuttle made her shiver more._

_So cold. So dark. Cold, dark. Cold. Dark. Cold dark cold dark cold dark cold dark cold-_

_So young._

 

Garrus awoke to his alarm. The insistent beeping pulled him from his sleep cycle and reminded him that his shift was to begin in the next hour or so.

A shower, first. He needed one to wake his body and loosen his plates and joints. Most mornings it only took him a few stretches and some scratching at certain stiff plates, but the dextro-alcohol from the night before had caused his skin to dehydrate.

Last night.

He reminded himself to pull on a pair of sleeping slacks, too familiar with having the apartment to himself and no drunken humans passed out on his couch. His feet padded against the floor, talons tapping softly with each step.

She was awake. At least, he _thought_ she was awake.

“Shepard?”

She didn’t move, and he paused just outside the main room of his home. She was upright, not laying on the couch, but instead had her head in her hands, fingers gripping tight at her messy hair. Her knee bounced, heel hitting the ground everything other bounce and making a small _tap_ with the sole of her boot.

“Shepard,” he called again, but she didn’t move. Her fingers tightened in her hair, almost to the point that she would rip the fisted chunk out, but he walked over to stop her. He was sure to make noise, so not to surprise her, but the moment he rested his hand on her shoulder, she jumped back as if being shocked.

She froze, staring up at him with a pair of eyes that made the whole universe seem so small. It made him feel so small.

They were dark, but in the light he could see the softest of white. It wasn’t a reflection of light, either.

The eyes were not natural, at least on their inner workings.

He had read that after the attack on Akuze, not only was she the sole survivor but she was also gravely injured. Slathered in scars and she had lost most of her hearing and sight. How she recovered them, the articles did not say, but it gave a brief overview of how she rose through the ranks once her surgeries had been successful.

She was a sniper. Over twenty confirmed kills.

How had she not heard him?

“Shit, Garrus, you scared me half to death.”

He frowned at the idiom, something he had caught on from the other humans in C-Sec but human phrases were still foreign to him.

“You okay?” he asked her, and her arms relaxed but her eyes still held tight. The scar across her cheeks ever prominent. “How long have you been awake?”

Those eyes flashed toward the digi-clock in the kitchen. Bright numbers screamed at her. She cursed under her breath and stood. While not as wobbly as the night before, she stumbled to gather her balance and he effortlessly helped her.

“Shepard…”

His subvocals hummed in warning. Spirits help him, he would tie her down if she went and drank anymore.

“Fuck, Garrus, I’m late. Roll call is in fifteen minutes, I’m not going to make it.”

The Turian blinked in surprise, still not use to the uncensored translation. At least there was no static this time.

“I thought you were on shore leave?”

He got no reply as she stuffed the end tails of her shirt into her pants, double checking her boots.

“At least drink some water,” he tried to reason, but she still didn’t hear him. Finally, out of frustration, he grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Shepard!”

She finally paused, but only for a moment. Holding up a single finger, she flicked on her omni-tool and hit a few buttons before the tip of her finger went into her hear. She winced, and he heard the smallest sound of feedback.

“Sorry. Must have turned off my aids. I have to go, Garrus,” she gathered her long hair and pulled a small circular tie from around her wrist to use and twist her hair into a bun. It piled on top of her hair, and he was almost impressed at the quickness she did it with. “Thanks for bringing me to your place.”

With the same quickness, she’s suddenly beside him and pressed her lips to his plated cheek. He didn’t feel it, not really, but the pressure almost burned him to the bone. In a good way.

“I owe you.”

And then she’s gone.

Garrus threw up his hands in frustration, fingers digging into the back of his neck to massage away the beginnings of a stress headache. That human would be the death of him.

“This is what you get for helping humans, Vakarian,” he grumbles to himself, stripping of his sleep pants and stepping into the shower. The hot water felt nice between his plates, easing off the tension that had grown. “Why can’t you be like all the other Turians, huh? Why do you have to be like this and _like_ squishy aliens?”

He dunked his head under the spray, the water running down his cowl and back plates.

Hopefully it wouldn’t be a year before he saw her again.

And hopefully Aemilia wasn’t _too_ mad at him.

 

When he arrived at his office later that morning, he found a note on the keypad of his vid screen.

_I’ll be off-base for a few months. Sorry for everything._

That was the one thing that he could make out. The rest was scratched out or not completed.

Garrus growled deep and low in his belly, taking the note and crumbling it between his fingers.

“Rough night?” Velio asked as he passed by, mandibles flicked out in amusement. Garrus threw the crumbled paper at his friend, who ducked it with a chuckle and went to his own desk. When no one was looking, Garrus walked over and scooped the note back up.

He sat at his desk with a huff, smoothing out the wrinkles the best he could. When his supervisor came over with his next case, Garrus quickly hid the note in the drawer of his desk.

He deserved more than a hastily written note and a half-assed apology.

Even though there was nothing for her to be sorry for.


	5. Stolen

He stared down at the datapads on his desk, eyes flickering over the different results. When the screen would darken after idling for too long, his finger would reach out and tap it back awake. He did this for almost half an hour, one hand palming his chin as he thought while the other tapped on datapads.

Nothing was adding up.

He had spent almost a week on this investigation and there were no leads.

“Vakarian, you better take your lunch now. Otherwise you’ll miss the chance.”

He sighed, mandibles twitching inward at the annoying voice of his office mate, but pushed away from his desk nonetheless. Velio walked over beside him, pulling his drink up to his lip plates and slowly sipped while looking over the information Garrus had laid out.

“Any luck?”

Garrus shook his head, rubbing at his neck to lessen the stitch in it from being bent over for so long.

“I don’t even know where to start, Velio. If I can’t get my hands on the organs to test them, I can’t discover their origin. Without that, I don’t even know where to start. This guy is good. He’s covered any paper trail there might be with firewalls and multiple credit accounts.”

Velio patted Garrus’ shoulder and then walked over to his own desk.

“Take your lunch. Come back at it with a fresh mind. It will still be here in an hour.”

Begrudged, Garrus stands from his desk and walks into the break room. There he swipes his omni-tool over the employee time chits and takes his lunch break. Walking out of the offices, toward the front entrance to grab a transit cab and head to his apartment for something simple to eat, he paused as the doors opened.

“Shepard?”

She looked up from her hands, her fingers pausing as she froze.

He almost didn’t recognize her.

Her long hair was cute short into a close crop, but a single braid hung just behind her ear, laying over her shoulder. It was the dark markings on her bare shoulders that made him recognize her, as well as the familiar scent that wafted through the air when she walked into a room.

They hadn’t seen each other in months. Just as her note said.

“Hey, Vakarian,” she said sheepishly, reaching a hand up to play with the small braid. “Just got back in from my mission. Thought I’d come say hello. I wanted to, uh…” She paused and coughed into her hand. “To thank you, for last time. That wasn’t a good time for me and I…” she paused again, and he watched the knot in her throat bob as she swallowed.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself.” He brought up a hand and rested it on her shoulder. It took everything in her not to look up at him. “I, uh, read your file. The Akuze thing.”

Her eyes closed. “Yeah. The Akuze thing,” she echoed dryly and Garrus stabbed himself for the lack of emotion in mentioning such a horrific moment in the woman’s life.

“And that came out horribly unsympathetic,” he said, sighing to himself and dropping his hand. She smirked, amused.

“Were you going somewhere? I’m not interrupting you in the middle of a big case, am I?”

Thank the Spirits, she changed the subject.

“Actually, I was going to grab some lunch. Join me?”

Damnit, Vakarian. She can’t eat dextro-foods. You’re going to kill the girl.

“Yes!” she excitedly answered, before catching herself and toning down her vocal volume. “I mean, yes, I would love to. I’m starving. Literally _just_ docked and I am going to get my fill on food that isn’t a MRE.”

“Good. That means you can catch me upon what you’ve been doing for the last few months, Shepard.”

“Sorry, Vakarian, that’s classified Intel.”

“Has that ever stopped you before?”

Her smirk was answer enough.

 

“So, how long are you on leave?” he asked, opening his take-away box as he sat down on the small bench that they had chosen as their eating spot. Gave them a chance at privacy away from all the others. Turians and Humans weren’t supposed to get along, let alone be seen eating together.

“Eight days. Then I’m being transferred to another company. Captain Peavy almost kicked me out of the Waterloo mid-transit earlier.” Shepard chuckled to herself in amusement as she opened her own box and picked at a slice of… whatever it was that she was eating.

“This s going to sound very not-human of me but, _what_ are you eating?” His mandible flicked in disgust and he made a small noise under his breath.

She laughed and pointed her fork in his direction, the tip painted dark red.

“I could ask you the same thing, Vakarian!” She held her own disgusted look, but he didn’t take it for more than face value. “Seriously? Who eats blue noodles? And… why does it smell like wet cat food?”

“Oh, so now we’ve reached the point of insulting each other’s food? An all-time low, even for you, _Commander_.”

She laughed again. “If you must know, I am eating the Asari version of Kreatopita.”

Garrus paused, giving her a look. She stuck her tongue out.

“I’m sorry, I think you’ll have to repeat that, I think my translator fried. You’re eating _what_?”

“It’s called Kreatopita. My mother were Greek, a specific group of people on Earth, almost like your clans on Palaven. My parents were engineers. A few years before I was born they moved to a colony on Mindoir and…” She paused, throat catching and he heard it.

He knew about Mindoir. That wasn’t too long ago, in fact…

He coughed softly, and it pulled her from whatever thoughts she may have tangled herself in; she looked up and smiled. While it didn’t reach her eyes, he couldn’t blame her.

“So, care to explain what you’re eating?”

Garrus thrummed with amusement, and her hearing aids must have picked it up because her brow rose in question at the sound. His mandible twitched outward in a half smile.

“It’s called Y- _uzdretnfgpv-_. It’s a delicacy when you haven’t had a home cooked meal in a few years.”

She stuck a finger in her ear, and pulled her own confused look.

“Okay, my translator _did_ fry that time. Wanna give it another go?”

He rolled his eyes, or at least tried. A few of the humans in C-Sec did the motion often, and it became a habit to do it as well. It started out as mocking them before he realized he did it a little _too_ much on his own.

“It won’t translate into anything you’ll understand, which is why I was surprised I understood what you said.

“If you say so, Vakarian.”

She brought her fork to her mouth and unloaded a fork load of her lunch, to which he did the same with his own meal.

They sat together in a comfortable silence, every now and then daring the other to try their food. He was certain Shepard would try his food, even with the risk of a horrible allergy attack if her body rejected the sustenance. He politely declined her every offer.

“Okay, so you’ve been really quiet and of all the little bit of time I’ve spent with you, you usually don’t shut up.”

He pulled a face. He didn’t really talk that much… did he?

“Something’s going on in that weirdly pointy head of yours and it’s throwing off the fun vibe I’m trying to keep going for my shore leave. So spill.”

Garrus sighed and set his box aside, no longer hungry.

“It’s just this case I’ve been working on for over a week. I can’t really release any details…” He paused at the look on her face. “I _shouldn’t_ release any details since it’s still an open case, but I really need a second opinion on it.”

“I’m all ears, Vakarian.”

Garrus did his best to explain the case to the human. While he knew it went against about fifteen protocols that he could recite from memory, it was easing to know that he was not the only one burdened with the information of trying to crack the case.

“Do you have a way to contact one of the dealers?” she asked, pensively staring out over the Presidium. She had one hand up, fingers twirling her braid back and forth. He nods. Where was she going with this? “Why not go buy one of the organs yourself, undercover, of course, and then have the lab test it? I’m sure C-Sec has an unlimited amount of credits it can use for sting operations like that.”

“They’re not just going to sell a C-Sec officer a new liver, Shepard.”

“Did you not hear me? I said _undercover_.”

“I’ll need a story. In case they ask questions.”

“I’ll go with you. We can pull the ol’ ‘this is my human lover who is dying please help her’ story. Such a tragedy.”

He hummed in disapproval. “They’re not going to believe that. Turians and Humans hate each other.”

“Which is why it’ll be so much more believable! Star-crossed lovers who are losing their chance to be happy. Hell, maybe they’ll even give us a discount.”

Garrus sat and thought, going over every aspect he could, weight the options.

“You sure you want to be spending your shore leave helping me solve a case of black market organs?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to. Besides, call this me paying you back for letting me sleep on your couch.”

“And for vomiting in my cell.”

“I gave you that credit chit!”

“The food wasn’t that good when I went.”

“Well that’s not _my_ fault.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In less than a week, I've posted 5 chapters, received a handful of comments, over 30 kudos, and over 300 hits. You guys are amazing!
> 
> I've gotten a bit of the story slightly outlined - to the extent that I know the direction I want to go. Hopefully I can keep up this 'a chapter a day' thing. Thanks for reading!


	6. Please Give Me a Confession

They split up with the plan of disguises. Shepard had to return to her hotel room and dig through her things and he informed his superior of the situation before donning his own disguise. He covered his blue colony markings with white paint and dressed in a dark red material.  

It was agreed to meet back up at the bench they had been at, and Garrus made sure to get his contact on the phone and set up a meeting.  

Shepard had changed from her Alliance casuals and into civvies. A thick black scarf was wrapped around her neck, and she wore a light gray sweater with a strange pattern on it. If he thought correctly, they were the Earth animal 'owls'?  

"Aren't you hot in that?" 

She smirked, before dropping it and changing her posture. 

Within moments she had transferred her appearance from over-dressed human to a very sickly human. She had make up on, coloring her eyes a dark blue and her cheeks were flushed a bright red. She sucked in a quick breath through her nose, and a wet sound followed as she coughed.  

She was a good actress. 

He must have appeared surprised because she smiled as she wiped at her nose.  

"How did you do that?" 

"I'm allergic to a lot of flora. I just took a couple hard sniffs and bam, allergy attack." 

"I thought the human liver had nothing to do with the sinus cavity and more with filtering the blood stream?" 

"Not a lot of non-humans know the human biology."  

Garrus shook his head, humming in mild disapproval. "Your lack of faith is disturbing, Shepard." 

 

They stood outside a warehouse in the Tayseri Ward, level 54.  

“So, what’s with the new hair cut?” 

“Half of it got singed off in my last mission. A sign to switch things up, I guess.” 

"I like it." 

She smirked. "The story or the hair?" 

"Both." 

 

Half an hour later, Shepard sat down on a crate, legs cramping from the constant standing but Garrus was like a statue, nothing could shake him.  

"You really need to tell me your secret leg work out. I'm about to die." 

She sniffled, and he let out a low laugh.  

"I thought you were a Commander, Shepard. More like a corporal." 

"Hey!" She tossed a ball of lint from her pocket at him. "I've been stuck on a ship for the past week kissing ass." 

"In other words, you got soft." 

"You like my curves." 

He didn't reply. 

 

Garrus looked down at the bright orange clock of his omni-tool. They had been waiting almost two hours. 

"Okay, I'm taking a nap. Wake me up when they get here," Shepard said with more mumbled words afterwards. He didn't bother trying to understand her. She curled up on the crate she had been sitting on and whined in protest when the cold metal made her shiver.  

 _Cold dark cold dark cold dark cold dark cold dark-_  

"You Hecto?" 

Garrus turned and looked at the Batarian coming from the shadows, a dark gray box under his arm. He nodded, and Shepard stayed laying down, pulling her pity act. It must have been working because he watched the Batarian relax and shift the box in his arms. 

"Yeah. That the..." He trailed off, waving toward the box.  

The Batarian nodded before looking at Shepard. "She okay?" 

"I've got a failing liver. You tell me," she grumbled, coughing harshly until tears rolled down her cheeks. Garrus kept his expression even, but his subvocals told that he was impressed by the act.  

"Here's the credits," Garrus said, handing over the prepaid chit plugged with a tracking device. The Batarian took it as he handed off the box. It wasn't too heavy, not too light. There was something in there, and he half-hoped it _was_  the liver.  

The Batarian tilted his head in departure and walked off. Garrus and Shepard walked the opposite direction, Shepard coughing into her hand until they arrived at the stair well to take them back to their sky car.  

"Well, that's wasn't so hard."  

 

Two days later, the results were back on the liver. And it belonged to a _very_  alive and _very_  unhappy human. They brought her in for questioning, much to their misfortune, and walked out of the interview room with their heads down and tail between their legs.  

Garrus was back at his desk, rubbing his gloved fingers over his face as he tried to conjure up some possible explanation. He now had more questions than answers. But at least the tracker on the credit chit had worked.  

The dealer was currently in a holding cell, cursing his contact with everything he could.  

"I swear, I don't know where the guy is! I get a message of where to pick up the package and where to deliver it. I drop the credit chit off in another location and then my cut is automatically uploaded. I'm not the only one, there are others. I didn't even know I was carrying organs until my third run when someone opened it in front of me." 

"But you kept doing runs, why?" 

"It pays good money. I've got three kids with no mother." 

He had the recording playing on a loop.  

 _I get a message._  

 _Another location._  

 _There are others._  

Garrus racked his brain. Now that they had caught one, the others would more than likely be on edge.  

"Credit for your thoughts?" 

Garrus looked up at Velio, mandibles down in chagrin. They had been on the case for over a week and still no lead. _If my father had the case he would have solved it in two days._  

He frowns at his own bitter thoughts.  

"Take your lunch. Food seems to help you think," Velio suggested, grabbing a file from his desk and leaving the office. Garrus sat there for a little longer. 

 _Shepard helps me think_ , he silently corrects his office mate.  

Garrus perks up. 

"Shepard!" She'll know what to do. She helped him with the sting operation, she can help him get the sick bastard who's been cutting out organs.  

"You rang?" 

Garrus turned suddenly, almost losing his balance as he felt his equilibrium give in. Shepard was standing in the doorway of his office, smirk on her face and arms crossed. He had not seen her since their departure after dropping off the box that held the liver.  

He felt embarrassment vibrate in his subharmonics, the sound humming through his entire body.  

"I'm hoping you weren't shouting my name out in a moment of passion?" 

Garrus quickly covered his face with a large hand, mandibles flicking in embarrassment. 

"No, I wasn't." 

"Ah, such a shame." 

She walked over, dressed in a pair of Alliance casuals again, the dark blue slacks contrasting with the white polo. A stripe of red ran down the right shoulder, from underneath the collar to the sleeve.  Leaning on the edge of his desk with one hip, arms folded over her chest, she smirks at him.  

"Well then, what _were_  you shouting my name for?" 

"I figured if I'm going to die that shouting the name of someone right before I do will help prove who my killer was." 

"And how would I kill you?" 

"Of embarrassment." 

Shepard gave her own laugh, this one a bit more sheepish than he expected, and he caught the faint red on her cheeks. 

"Alright, Vakarian, you win that one. So, how's this case of yours going?" 

With his mind back on his dead end case, Garrus groaned, mandibles flicked out in a mixture of annoyance and frustration.  

"I've hit another dead end. The organ we picked up had the same DNA as a very much _alive_ shop owner here in the Citadel. She wasn’t happy when we told her she was missing a liver." 

Shepard snorted in amusement, but covered it quickly with a cough. 

"And the dealer?" 

"Doesn't know where the guy is or even what he looks like. He's harder to find than the Shadow Broker." 

"Ah, and that's where you're wrong, Vakarian." 

She patted his shoulder, the armor blocking off any touch, but he still appreciated the motion. She pushes off the desk and waves a hand over her shoulder, walking out of his office. "Follow me, officer." 

His eyes linger further down than they should.  

 _Soft and squishy? No, firm with a little give._  

Damnit, Vakarian. 

Garrus follows after her, and she walks through C-Sec like she's the Executor who has just found a break in the case.  

"You're trying to find new resources, Garrus. You can't do that in these situations. You have to work with what you have." 

He's confused, and his subvocals tell as much. She walks into the long hall of holding cells and interview rooms. He mumbles the room number, and she makes a beeline for it. Inside is a slightly annoyed, even more slightly fearful Batarian. He looks up as they answer, and his eyes squint slightly before they widen.  

"You're that human! You tricked me!" 

"Yep, that's me. Mighty human trickster here to put you in jail," she says sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. "Look. I understand the 'I needed the money' part, I really do. Hell, I even sympathize with you. But there are organs being transported through the Citadel that _don't_  need to be transported and we need to know how to get in touch with the guy doing it. If you tell us where the next pick up is, we'll let you go free. Help you find a decent job that pays well." 

Garrus didn't open his mouth to correct her. They couldn't just _let_  him go. Neither had the authority.  

"Can you really do that?" He asked them, eyes pointedly at Garrus, sounding hopeful. The Turian nodded, he couldn't tell the man 'no'.  

There was a mild silence in the room, before the Batarian nodded. 

"Alright, I'll help. I get messages three times a week. I should get another one tomorrow. When I do, I'll tell you where the pick up is and when." 

Shepard nods and steps out of the way, arm arcing out to motion toward the door.  

"Thank you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get this out last night but hit a hitch in my plot. Had to move some stuff around, but now we're good! (For the mean time, at least.) But also, I got distracted with drawing Shepard. See her below~
> 
>  


	7. Exchange Fear for Courage

As if like clockwork, the next day just before mid-day, the Batarian, Bray as they learned his name was, called with the location and time of the package drop off. Garrus staked out within sight of the parking garage for a few hours before hand, seeing if they could catch the middle man. Maybe then they would have a better chance at finding their organ dealer. 

Fifteen minutes before the pick up time, traffic increased in the area. Garrus did his best to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious, but the crowd made it almost impossible to keep a constant view. 

"My visual is breaking up, I'm moving closer," he called into his comm, linked back to the C-Sec office in case they needed backup.  

Bray would be arriving soon, and he needed to catch a clear eye of the pick up.  

A young human, barely on the cusp of adulthood, stepped out from the shadows of the parking garage and looked around. He held a gray box against his side, eyes twitching back and forth over the street while fidgetting uncomfortably.  

They had their middle man. 

Bray came into his visual, head down and hands deep in his jacket pockets. Just a few more steps... 

The Batarian spoke with the human, their words quick and quiet. Bray was passed the box. He turned to leave, going back in the direction he came while the human scurried off in the opposite way.  

"I've got him. Closing in," Garrus said, the comm cracking as the officer on the other line confirmed his action. 

Garrus took off in a small job, boots thumping over the sound of the crowd that he pushed his way through. The human look back, and once he saw Garrus, he took off running.  

"He's on the move!" He called, now sprinting after him. The crowd seemed to split apart at the sight of a C-Sec officer running, but they only made it easier for the assailant to get away.  

He was heading to the elevator. 

"Damnit, don't let him go!" He yelled, breath going fast and easy out of his chest with each pump of his legs. A group moved apart just as the doors to the elevator opened.  

The man was met with an elbow to the face and a proud looking Shepard.  

Garrus slowly came to a stop, heart thumping in his chest as he caught his breath. He looked down at the whimpering man, his hand clasped over what looked to be a broken and bleeding nose.  

"My superiors aren't going to be happy with you butting in on my cases." 

"What're they going to do? Fire me? Please, I'm already choking in enough red tape." 

He vibrated in amusement before letting out a small chuckle. Grabbing the cuffs from his belt, Garrus locked them around the man's wrists and pulled him to his feet.  

"You are hereby arrested for the act of organs dealing. You have the right to remain silent..." 

 

With two organs, a middle man, and now a list of location for pick ups, Bray deserved a reward. To show their gratitude for the immense help, Garrus' captain took the Batarian and his three children for a nice dinner and a small sweets-shopping trip. (As ordered by his wife, of course.) 

Once the results from the second organ came in, however, and they found the DNA to match another _alive_  victim, Garrus felt the dead end hit again.  

There was a brick wall standing between him and the organs dealer. He couldn't climb over it without a ladder. Couldn't go around it without falling into a pool of lava on one side or a den of thresher maws on the other. Going backwards wasn't an option. 

So Garrus did the one thing that seemed to help him when he hit a hitch in his case. 

Talk to Shepard. 

"You know, you need to get hard cases more often. I'm really enjoying all the free lunch." 

"You solve this case for me and I'll buy you dinner." 

Shepard smirked, and he then realized how it sounded. Before he could explain himself, she spoke. 

"Looks like I need to get to work then." She winked at him, and he took the notion with a happy thrum.  

 _Damnit,_ _Vakarian_ _._  

"So, tell me what you've got so far," she says, taking a bite into her food. He picks at his own, not feeling hungry all of a sudden.  

"Both organs came back from citizens of the Citadel, both alive and not missing any major organs. We can't get the dealer to talk and we've got officers stationed near all of Bray's pick up points, but so far we've seen no more pick ups." 

Shepard tapped at her chin as if in thought, her other hand twirling her braid back and forth.  

"Has anything been broadcasted about the case?" 

Garrus shakes his head. 

"Well then, that can only mean that the organ dealer is watching every pick up, and when he saw his guy go down, he's on the defensive now." 

Garrus pauses. It was reasonable. 

"Are any of them connected in a way? Live in the same ward, go to the same restaurant every week, buy the same tooth paste?" 

Garrus shakes his head again. "Not that we know of." 

Shepard smirks. "That you know of? Wow, Vakarian, it's almost like you _want_  this guy to get away." Her taunt set him on edge. "You need to start digging. Pull up credit records, past job history, family connections." 

He almost growled – _like Hell he wanted this guy to get away with his crime_  - but she was right. He wasn't digging far enough. Garrus sighed and rubbed at the plates under his eyes. He couldn't sleep, not with the case on his mind. 

"Hey." 

Her soft hand rested on his, and he barely felt it through his glove, but the pressure was enough to look up at her. He was use to the hard look on her face, use to the firm gaze she held, never wavering. Her black eyes were now a soft brown, like how he remembered the sands of Palaven. The white of the cybernetic implants were still bright, however, just behind her pupil.  

"We'll catch him."  

"Or her," he retorts, almost automatically. Shepard smirks but waves off the words. 

"We females are not stupid enough to leave such a trail behind. If we want something done, we do it ourselves. Correctly the first time." 

 

Shepard and Garrus sat in his office, picking over the files that were laid out in front of them. They were digging back as far as they could get. There were some gaps in their pasts, but nothing that couldn't be filled in with a quick phone call.  

"Hey, I think I found something," Garrus said, putting down the files of the two organ 'donors' in front of Shepard. She looked up from the datapad in her lap. "Both have worked for the same doctor in the same timeframe." 

She looked at the name. 

 _Saleon_. 

"Hey, that name popped up on this kid's file." 

She filed through the slides before stopping on the most current. 

"Yep. Dr. Saleon. Kid works for him right now, actually. Shalta Ward, level twenty-two." 

The door to the office slid open, and one of the asari interns stood in the door way looking paler than usual. 

"Sir, your detainee is currently bleeding out in his cell. They've called for a medic. ETA five minutes." 

Garrus looked to Shepard before standing and quickly made his way to the cell. The human lay on the cot, hands pressed tight to his side as he breathed heavy, blood spilling between his fingers.  

"You don't think he did this to himself, do you?"  

Before Garrus could answer Shepard's question, the man coughed harshly and more blood spilled down under him.  

"The doctor," he said, weakly. They could hear the hurried voice of a medic coming. "He uses us as test tubes. Pays good. Until our organs don't grow back right and he just leaves us to die." 

Shepard's eyes widened; Garrus looked back at her with his own surprised expression. 

"I believe we just got a confession, Officer Vakarian."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the slight canon divergence. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> ps. I drew Shepard again. Check me out on tumblr for lots of memes and bioware trash.  
> Agesofaquarius.tumblr.com
> 
>  


	8. Long Way to Swim

Shepard was in his ear as he flanked around to the back of the clinic.  

 _You_ _got him,_ _Garrus_ _. You did it._  

She'd say that every few sentences, the gratification more pleasing than anything his father could ever tell him. She made him feel so proud in what he did, that dealing with al the red tape was worth it. Because of those few little words.  

 _You got him,_ _Garrus_ _. You did it._  

And then there was the explosion.  

He rolled out of the way, facing away from the blast as a crate hit the back of his armor. He'd be sore, but right now he was focused on the mission.  

 _Garrus_ _, are you okay? What happened? We lost contact with the group._ _Garrus_ _?_ _Garrus_ _!_  

He groaned into the comm, slowly getting to his feet and grabbing his pistol from where it had slid away across the floor. Flames blared from the back of the clinic as alarms rang, water systems releasing a stream of water to douse the fire.  

 _Garrus_ _?_  

Her voice was so soft, like she was whispering right beside him. He hopped through a broken window, over a pile of burning papers, and checked around the area. 

"I'm okay," he replied, and she let out a sigh of relief. "He's gone. Probably felt a trap for when we came for him." 

He opened his comm to Velio. "V, I need you to release a station wide alert, close all docks. This guy isn't leaving." 

'I don't know if I can do that Garrus,' Velio answered, and it caused the Turian to growl once he confirmed the place was empty. There were bars of organs and large freezer full as well, but the fire would destroy everything before he could get back up. He pulled his visor from a space pocket in his armor and hooked it over his eye, recording the area to the best he could. 

This would be his only evidence.  

"V, I'm sending you live feed of the clinic. Store it. We could use it in court." 

There was an affirmitive in his ear before Shepard came through again. 

 _Garrus_ _, we’ve got security on the guy. He's heading toward the docks. They're trying to close off all paths but approval is taking too long._  

"Damn red tape," he cursed, turning off his visor and putting it back in his armor.   

 

"What do we know?" He asked as he walked into his office, the homebase for catching Dr. Saleon. They had eyes on him, but he had disappeared into a second office not minutes before. A second group was closing in on him, but who knew how long he would hold out in there.  

"Two teams, one front and one flank. They've got the ward blocked off but who knows if he has an escape route." 

"And the docks?" 

"We've gotten the whole ward closed, but we can only hold ships for so long, Garrus." 

He growled again, frustration seating itself in his belly. His mandibles twitched as he thought of an alternative. Shepard felt useless, and he could tell from her body posture. She couldn't help with the front lines and she could only do some much behind the scenes. Her mood was rolling over into him and it was taking a toll on them both.  

"We've got movement!" Velio called from the screen of vid feeds, and the front door of the office opened.  

Dr. Saleon walked out with a group surrounding him, all of them bleeding profusely.  

"Holy fuck," Shepard breathed in disbelief.  

Garrus tensed as he watched the doctor walk out slowly, pistols not wavering as they lined up a shot, but there was an innocent on each side. No opening. 

No more innocents would die.  

"Damnit!" Garrus shouted, slamming his fist down on the desk in frustration. He felt Shepard's hand on his shoulder, squeezing the joint to calm him. It took everything in him not to toss it off and go on a rampage. _Don't take your anger out on her,_ _Vakarian_ _. She just wants to help._  

He remembered that conversation vividly.  

 _Why do you want to help so bad, Shepard? This isn't your job._  

 _I like to help people,_ _Vakarian_ _. It's my thing. It's what I'm good at. I won't stop until the good Lord takes me home._  

He found it odd for her to be the religious type, but her reply was that it was 'nice to have something to believe in that was bigger than everyone, bigger than yourself.' He supposed he could agree to that.  

He rubbed at the tight spot on the back of his neck, trying to loosen himself up so he could think straight. However, his fingers were pushed aside by a smaller, softer hand and he felt the tips of her nails digging into his soft hide under his fringe. 

For just a moment, the whole galaxy seemed to disappear and all he recognized as existing was the sensation of her skin on his and the scent of her washing over him. He took a deep breath, his whole body melting away. They had never been just skin on skin. Never.  

And now he questioned why he waited so long.  

"Garrus, calm down."  

Calm. Calm down. Yes, he was calm. As long as she didn't take her hand off him.  

"Just take a few breathes and think."  

Think? He couldn't think right now, not with how amazing her nails felt digging into his skin. He could think about her, sure, how much he wanted to see just how 'firm with a little give' she was. Taste her soft skin on the back of his tongue.  

"Better?" She asked, and he nodded. "Good. Now what do you want to do?" 

He was the leader of this case, he chose what they did.  

"Do you think you could pull out some of those Alliance skills and be my sniper?" 

She looked surprised that he would ask that, that he would know that, but it eased into a grin. She chuckled and shook her head, her thoughts unreadable. 

"I thought you'd never ask, big guy." 

He nodded and straightened his back, looking to Velio. His officemate vibrated with disapproval, the subharmonics almost hurting him, but this was Garrus' case and he would finish it how he saw fit.  

"Get your gear, commander. We have a criminal to catch." 

 

He had the doctor in his sights, the spot between his eyes circled in the crosshair of his visor.

"There's no where else to go, Saleon!" He yelled, pistol raised and ready to shoot the second he got an opening. Shepard was in his ear again, across the dock with a crosshair trained on the doctor.  

 _I don't have an opening,_ _Garrus_ _. Get him away from the ship._  

There was a group coming up the flank, ready to grab at the hostages to get them out of the way and take him in. Garrus wasn't planning on giving him that luxury, not after everything he had done to those people.  

The Salarian looked around for any opening, not wanting his back to Garrus or the team flanking him once he realized they were there. One of the people stumbled, more than likely weak from blood loss, and he heard the crack of a rifle before he saw it.  

He stumbled, at first, eyes wide as he stared at the gaping wound in his shoulder. 

 _Fuck! Damn duct rat came out of no where, scared the hell out of me_ _._  

But it was too late. The doctor was on the ship now, hand clasped over the wound. Garrus pulled the trigger, trying to get any hit on the criminal. He only hit the metal of the ship. 

"Close all docks! Close all docks!" He yelled, rushing forward. The doors closed and he banged on them, frustration sitting on him again. The ship came to life, metal warming under his gloves. "Don't let him get out of the Citadel!" 

The tower control operator came over the comm. 

"Officer Vakarian, we're doing our best to keep him docked but he's overriding our codes." 

"Shoot the damn ship down, then!" 

"There are hostages on that ship, Vakarian." 

"They're dead anyways! He'll just harvest them until there's nothing left!" 

"We can't take the chance, Vakarian." 

The ship pulled away from the boarding area, thrusters hot as they lifted the doctor and his victims out of sight. 

He had gotten away. 

"Garrus?" 

He looked back at Shepard, just then realizing that he had been standing at the docking bay for quite some time, staring at the dark vastness of space. Her eyes were deeper, held more than the entire universe.  

"I'm so sorry." 

"It's not your fault, Shepard." 

"I had a shot, I shouldn't have gotten so surprised by that damn kid. I'm so sorry, Garrus. You must hate me." 

He didn't answer her. Just walked away.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're about two chapters away from the ME1 timeline! Thanks for reading.
> 
> PS. Next chapter will have some nsfw aspects.


	9. Shots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains non-graphic sexual content that would be deemed not safe for work.

She had one more night to make everything right. 

Hauling her bag over her shoulder, Shepard checked out of her hotel room late into the evening. There were three bottles of alcohol in her bag; one bottle her favorite brand of whiskey, another was a popular Turian brandy, and then there was a dextro-levo friendly wine in there too. 

She had stopped by the C-Sec offices, grabbing Velio before he left for the day to ask where Garrus lived. She remembered being there once, but was too inebriated to remember any directions. 

_Why do you want to know where he lives?_

_To make everything right._

_He doesn’t want to see anyone. He took almost a week off. Racked up on overtime during this investigation._

_Please, Velio. I need to talk to him._

The Turian didn’t need much persuasion, and Shepard found this odd, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. A quick cab to the correct ward and a long elevator ride up, she stood in front of his door with her stomach in her throat. 

Was she really about to do this?

Yes.

She knocked, fist rapping against the metal door twice. It was then that she realized she could have just buzzed him. Would have saved her the echo of the sound rolling down the long, empty hall. 

There was no sound from the other side for a few breathes, so she rapped again and that when she heard the shuffling of feet. 

"Velio, I am _fine_ , I sw- Shepard?"

She looked up at him sheepishly, throwing a small wave into her greeting. 

"Shepard, what are you doing here? How did you know where I lived?"

"Velio."

"Should have known."

There was a pause, and he raised a brow ridge in question.

"Oh, right, why I'm here." She nodded to herself and repositioned the strap on her shoulder. It was then he noticed the large duffle bag. "I felt bad for missing my shot at Saleon and went to apologize to you at C-Sec but they said you had taken off. So, I bugged Velio long enough so he'd give me your address and then I went and got a lot of alcohol as a peace offering."

Garrus didn't know whether to sigh or laugh. So he laughed, just because it seemed to lighten the weight on his shoulders. 

"Come in, Shepard," he offered to her, stepping out of the doorway to allow her in. She took a step.

"You can call me, Toni, you know."

"I know."

 

The sat on his couch laughing loudly at one another. The vid screen was playing but muted, just their words filling the air around them. 

"I've got a good one!" She said, catching her breath before taking a swig of her whiskey. "This recruit, Gerald, had this huge piece of lint on his shoulder that he didn't see, but the sergeant caught it during inspection. She said, 'Gerald! What is that on your shirt? Is that a fluffy?'"

Garrus chuckled, sipping slowly at his own bottle of brandy, savoring the sweet burn. 

"He said, 'Yes, sergeant Carroll! I must have missed it, sergeant!'"

She laughs again, too far gone to get through the story without being in tears.

"'Missed it? It's so huge! How could you have missed such a big fluffy?'" She continues, reenacting the thick accent of the sergeant. "'Hold out your hand, Recruit Gerald!'"

He laughs, shaking his head at her. "No, she didn't."

Shepard nods and laughs again. "She takes the fucking... the fucking dust bunny, and puts it in his hand, and says, 'Recruit Gerald, this is Mr. Fluffy. Find him a home and when I call for him, you will bring me Mr. Fluffy.' And every time she found a piece of lint she would yell, 'Mr. Fluffy!', and Gerald would run up with this little pill bottle full of lint and she would just keep adding to it."

They went back into hysterics again. 

"Ever find out what happened to him after boot camp?" Garrus asked, and Shepard almost sobered up completely.

"He was on Akuze with me."

He swallowed hard and reach across the couch to place a hand on her in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Shepard."

She only shrugged and swallowed another gulp of her whiskey. "That was years ago, Garrus. I'm over it."

Shepard was lying through her teeth, but he didn't call her out on it. He would let her delude herself as long as she could stand. 

"I have one," he said, a slightly humorous tilt in his voice as he leaned away from her and settled back against the arm of the couch. "Turian warships can get... crazy at times. So, we handle things, grudges and broken bets, in a more physical way. Sparing was activity of choice."

"Wait, you had full-contact sparing on your ships?"

He nodded. 

"There was this one mission, me and this recon scout had been at each others necks all week. Nerves mostly, but she did make me lose my shot on a merc and I wasn't happy about it."

"So you took it to the mats."

He nodded again.

"Her suggestion."

"I hope you didn't go easy on her," Shepard says with her own drunken chuckle.

"Actually, she and I were the two best hand-to-hand specialists on the ship. I had reach, she had flexibility. It was brutal." He laughed again, swallowing more alcohol as his blood heated up. "After nine rounds, they called it a draw. I was so frustrated still."

"That you couldn't beat her?"

"Not necessarily," Garrus smirked. "We, uh... settled a tiebreaker back in her quarters. I had reach... she had flexibility. More than one way to work off the stress." He shrugged nonchalantly, and it took Shepard a moment to catch on.

"Garrus!" She said in a moment of disbelief. "You mac daddy."

He laughed. "Shepard, I don't know what that is."

"The closest definition is a pimp, really. Uh, someone who is control of a lot of prostitutes, but it could also be used hand in hand with someone who has a eerily-natural control of women."

He just shook his head at her. 

"Hey, do you have any ice?" She asked, slowly standing from the couch. He pointed toward the kitchen. 

"Freezer, top shelf."

Shepard disappeared for a few minutes, leaving Garrus to his thoughts as he nursed the bottle in his hands, feeling relieved that he had not once thought about the disaster of the Saleon case once the whole night. Until right then, of course. 

"Okay, my turn, right?"

He looked up at her with a smile, but it soon dropped from his face. She had stripped out of the collared shirt had been in and instead wore the plain colored tank top from underneath. The dark ink of her tattoos stretched over her skin like a second layer. Her cheeks were bright red, making the scar across her nose stand out against the dark tan on her face. She had a cube of ice pressed against the side of her neck to help her cool off. Small tendrils of the water slide down her chest, under the sweaty fabric of the tank top.

"Vakarian."

He snaps out of his trance, trying to create an excuse but she gives him a knowing look. All she does is smile.

"My eyes are up here," Shepard teases him, and he groans to himself, mandibles flicking outward in frustration. 

 _Spirits, Vakarian, get a hold of yourself_.

"Garrus."

He looks up, too into his own mind to realize how close she had gotten. The ice was still in her hand, the melted liquid sliding down her arm as she leaned over toward him, one knee on the couch while the other foot stood sturdy on the ground. 

"Shepard, I-"

Neither said anything. Neither knew what to say. But nothing needed to be spoken. 

"You won't break me," she whispers, and his breath catches. "I'm quite flexible myself."

That was all the encouragement he needed.

 His lip plates met her soft ones in a messy battle, his long tongue not hesitating as it swept across her mouth to taste the levo-alcohol and her natural savoriness. The small sound she made in the back of her throat kick-started his heart again. With bare hands, her grabbed the back of her thighs and pulled Shepard into his lap, his tongue continuing its onslaught. She couldn't decide what to deal with first, his mouth or their clothes. 

When her hands went to the clasp of his vest and began to undo the hooks, he paused and pulled away. Of course he was thinking clearly _now_.

"Shepard, I..." he paused, not sure of what to say. "I've never, uh, you know... with a human, I mean. I don't want to hurt you."

She giggled, actually _giggled_ , and he thought it was the sweetest sound. Her hand came up and caressed the side of his head, running over the blunt ends of his fringe before her fingers dug into the hide at the base of his neck. He groaned deep, his chest vibrating with pleasure and she noticed. When his head tilted back, her blunt teeth nipped at the underside of his chin, teasing the softness of his throat. 

"Don't worry. You're not the only Turian I've been with, Garrus. I know how to make it work."

_So she did have a thing for aliens._

And _boy_ , did she make it work. Within minutes he was breathing heavy, the familiar ache of arousal pulsing between his legs as she moved her hips against his own. 

_Firm with a little give._

Shepard tossed her tank top off over her head, leaving behind a tight black band. That came off soon, too, showing her muscular abdomen and soft curvy breasts within his reach. He didn't know where to start. 

"Here," she said softly, taking one of his hands and placing it over one of the mounds, her thumb moving his to swipe over the hardened point. She made one of those noises he liked, and he vibrated again. She felt it on her thighs. "These are really sensitive, so be careful with those claws, shark man."

"I don't look like a shark," he retorted, his other hand coming up to do the same ministrations to her other breast. This time it wasn't just a sound, it was moan that spilled from her lips as the rough padding of his thumb tweaked the nipple. 

"Don't stop," she said, and he obliged.  

 

"Garrus."

He awoke slowly, body heavy with sleep and the alcohol still in his blood stream. His head would be pounding the moment his eye met the light, but thankfully the dark room saved him from that punishment.

"Shepard," he said groggy, his arms reaching out to pull her warmth back to him. Garrus was prepared for her bare skin, but instead found fabric in the way. She was back in her casuals. "Why do you have clothes on?"

"Garrus, I have to go."

This made him sit up, searching for her in the dark. Her silhouette leaned back to give him room. 

"What? Why?"

Did he do something wrong? Was this a mistake? Did she regret it?

"My leave is over. I have to be at the docks in an hour. I'm going back to Earth."

Back to Earth.

She was leaving him. He swallowed hard, reaching out for her. His thumb stroked the soft side of her neck and she sighed, leaning toward his touch. 

"How long will you be gone?" He asked, pulling her close to press his forehead to hers. She sighed softly, her breath washing over her. He breathed in deeply.

"I don't know."

And then she pulled away and he didn't fight it. 

"I'll keep in touch, try and not be a stranger when I dock again.”

He couldn’t see her smile, but he could feel it, the warmth of it spread over him like a blanket. She pushed him back into a laying position, her body half on his. Shepard kissed him, something he was still getting used to, but he enjoyed the feeling of the soft skin on his hide and the path her tongue traveled to meet his own. 

“See you later, Garrus.”

_At least it was better than a goodbye._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the wait. Work was super hectic this week and I needed a couple days to myself to just rest. Hope you enjoy! This chapter is a little longer than the others. Thanks for reading.
> 
> ME1 storyline starts next chapter.


	10. Come With Me

When Shepard first set foot on the docks of the Citadel, she breathed in the filtered air and looked around. It had been over a year (one year, four months, two weeks, six days, and approximately thirteen hours, but who was counting?) since she had last seen the station. There had been a few changes, mainly to do with the dock she was at. It wasn't crowded and busy like the others, but instead singled out with its own holding bay and cleaned spotless.

She left out a low whistle in appreciation.

"Let's get to the Presidium," Kaiden suggested, and the Commander nodded in agreement. The elevator and shuttle ride was quick, but Shepard found it humorous that Ashley wouldn't keep her nose off the glass.

"Ever been to the Citadel, Williams?" She asked the Chief.

Ashley slowled nodded. "Once, but it was just a layover and I didn't see any of this."

"Well, I'll be sure to give you the grand tour."

"Not your first time either, I take it, Commander?" Kaiden asked, eyeing the scenery.

"Nope. I use to spend my shore leave here. No point in going back to Earth or Mindoir. It's a fun trip. I have an old friend that works for C-Sec. Might drop by his office and catch up. Haven't seen him since I was assigned under Anderson."

The shuttle settled and parked outside of the Human ambassador offices. 

 

“I’m not about to sit on my ass and let this guy get away with this.”

“Watch yourself, soldier,” Udina hissed. “The point of this mission was for you to show the council you can get the job done, and Nihlis ended up dead.”

"That was Saren’s fault, not hers!”

“Then we better hope the C-Sec investigation turns up evidence to support our accusations. Otherwise,” Udina cut a sharp glare toward Shepard, and she returned it with an equal fire, “the council might use this as an excuse to keep you out of the Spectres.”

“You act like I wanted the recommendation,” Shepard snapped, making Udina frown deeply.

He dismissed the trio and pulled the Captain from the quarters.

“And that’s why I hate politicians,” the Chief said.

“Agreed,” Shepard and Alenko mumbled, smirking to one another.

The ride to the Citadel Tower was slower than Shepard expected, but it gave her time to think. The vision that had burned its way into her brain back on Eden Prime was still fresh, still burned behind her eyes like she had been staring at the sun for too long. Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing the tips of her fingers across the scar tissue that sliced across the tops of her cheeks.

The vision of the beacon could never measure up to the feeling of acid melting flesh, taking sight and hearing with it.

Shepard sighed and she felt the Chief’s eyes on her, but neither said anything.

She glanced out the window of the car, eying one of the entrances into C-Sec. Should she have gone and visited Garrus? Let him know she was back?

Did he even care?

The elevator dinged as it came to a stop, and Shepard walked forward, leading the trio up a flight of stairs and…

“Siren’s hiding something! Give me more time, stall the council.”

“Stall the council? Your investigation is over Garrus.”

Shepard suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. The faint buzzes in the air that signaled a turian’s subharmonics echoed in her ears. She wasn’t happy if the low buzz told her anything, but she could also tell by his posture. This was a great way to meet up after so long.

 “Commander Shepard, I presume?”

She was taken back by his curt speech, but she saw the way that he looked at her – they would speak more later. Shepard nodded. “That’s me.”

“Garrus Vakarian,” he nodded to her companions. “I was the officer in charge of the C-Sec investigation into Saren.”

“Who was that you were just talking to?” _I hope I didn’t get you fired._

“That was Executor Pallin, head of Citadel Security. My boss.” _I’m going to get myself fired, I don’t need your help on that one._ “He’ll be presenting my findings on Saren to the Council.” _I got nothing, sorry, Shepard._

“Come across anything that could come in handy?” _Anything I can do to help out?_

“Saren is a Spectre, most of his missions are classified. I couldn’t get into anything, but I know he’s hiding something.” _It’s a date. “_ Hopefully they’ll listen to you, commander.” _Good luck._

“I think the Council is ready for us, Shepard,” Alenko interrupted.

Shepard gave one final nod, her eyes lingering on his, before she walked forward.

 

He felt the breath leave his body before he could even realize it. She was back, and not much had changed. Her hair was still short and cropped, but the braid she had hanging loosely last time was now wrapped around her head like a band, adding to her.

Garrus had to learn how to breathe again.

She was back. She was _here_.

She had taken over his thoughts for the last year and the more days that went by, the more he thought she would never return. But here she was. So close.

 

Like _hell_ Shepard was going to go find some drunk to ask where Garrus was. She _knew_ where he was and she was going to confront him like an adult and they were going to talk. About the night they were together, about the year they had been apart, and about what may become of their future. Shepard thought of him fondly, and wanted to see him more.

She was able to get away from the Lieutenant and the Chief, pulling an excuse that she needed to go speak to a friend in the Zakera Ward. While there was no lie she was speaking to a friend, the location was a bit of a fib.

When she walked into the Investigations sector, an intense form of déjà vu swept over her. The last time she had been in these offices, they had been looking for Saleon. And they almost had him, but she missed her shot.

Shepard sneaked past the asari at the front desk, and slipped quietly down the hall. Two left turns and then the fourth door on the right. She remembered it well and hoped Garrus still used it.

_Velio Atticus  
_ _Garrus Vakarian_

Same office.

The door was opened, and she hoped for a moment that he wouldn't be there. She wasn't ready to face him again after so long. But in the split second it took her to realize that he wasn't there, she wished he had been.

"Shepard?"

She looked up at the familiar voice, and couldn't help the smile stretch on her face. "V! What's up, my favorite turian?"

The officer made a sound that was similar to a chuckle, his subharmonics humming with amusement. It made her inner ear implants buzz and tickle, and Shepard dug her little finger into her ear to make it stop. 

"I think you're looking for the turian with the blue markings and disgustingly large crush on you."

Shepard tilted her head in question. "Crush on me?"

"That's the correct term for you humans, yes? When someone has an infatuation but does not act on it?"

Shepard laughed and waved off the thought, but they would return later. "Where can I find this said turian, hm?"

"No clue. He took the rest of the day off. Try his apartment. You remember how to get there?"

Shepard nodded and said a quick farewell.

_Crush?_

 

He hadn't been at his apartment, much to Shepard's distain. This meant she was going to be forced to speak with Harkin, and if the two mercs that shot at her and the others was any consultation, she wasn't going to like it.

"Hey there Buttercup, why don't you come sit that sweet little ass down here beside ol' Harkin? He'll show you a good time."

Either he was blind or the lights in the club were too low for him to see the bright red and white N7 insignia on her uniform. Shepard growled, reaching for her pistol, but Alenko's hand on her shoulder made her pause.

"Don't call me that," she growled, her boot coming up to prop against the seat between his thighs. He suddenly went pale under the blue light. "It's _Commander_ to you, piss-ass."

"Right, yes ma'am."

Shepard smirked and took her foot away, but crossed her arms over her chest instead.

"Better. Now, I need some information. Where's Garrus Vakarian?"

Harkin laughed and took a sip of his drink. "What's a N7 want with a C-Sec lapdog?"

Shepard had to clench her fist to keep from punching him. _Don't talk about him that way._

"It's got some information I want."

"You mean the investigation on Saren?"

Shepard tensed again. "How do you know about that?"

Harkin scoffed. "Word travels fast in the Presidium.” Harkin gets this wicked look on his face. “Just like word sends you’ve been seen with a certain Turian on base in the past.”

There was no stopping Shepard this time; she had her pistol out and hot, pressed against his knee. “Stop wasting my time, Harkin,” she hissed, and the tables around them go quiet. There’s a gruff voice of a bouncer coming up behind him, but Shepard doesn’t let up.

“Last I heard he was going to meet a Dr. Michel!” he said, holding his hands up in defeat. “She runs a med clinic on the other side of the wards!”

Shepard pulls her pistol away and holsters it as the bouncer comes up. “There a problem here?”

“We were just leaving.”

 

“Commander…”

Shepard looks up from the sign as she figures out where exactly they’re heading. “Yes, Liutenant?”

“What was that back there? I’ve known you to have a lot better control than that. You don’t let some drunk get under your skin so easily.”

Shepard didn’t answer, just mumbled for them to follow her.

 

“Let her go!”

The first shot, from Garrus, made the thug leader on his back and brains on the walls. Shepard rolled behind the room divider, clicking the safety off her pistol. Counting to three, she pushed herself back up and took two shots. Alenko took the one in the far corner in her blind spot and the Chief got the doctor out of the fire fight. Shepard got the last one with two shots, both in the chest.

“Perimeter all clear, Commander.”

She nodded and dropped her pistol to her waist, keeping it low and clicking the safety back on.

Her eyes met with Garrus’ face, but he wouldn’t look at her.

“Good timing, Shepard. You gave me a clear shot at that bastard.”

She frowned and holstered her pistol.

“Glad to be of service.”

His eyes were on the Doctor, the redheaded woman looking paler than she should be.

“Dr. Michel, are you hurt?”

“No, no, I am fine. Thanks to you. All of you.”

Shepard looked at the men on the floor of the clinic. “Who were these men? Why were they threatening you?”

“They work for Fist. They wanted to shut me up, keep me from telling Garrus about the quarian.”

Shepard was beginning to find her accent annoying, and it took everything in her not to make a face.

“The quarian?”

Michel suddenly looked uneasy. “A few days ago a quarian came to me, she had been shot. She asked about how to find the Shadow Broker. Wanted to trade information in exchange for a safe place to hide.”

‘Where is she now?”

“I put her in contact with Fist. He was a contact of the Shadow Broker.”

“Not anymore, he works for Saren now,” Garrus cut in.

“He crossed the Shadow Broker? Fist must have given him a huge offer,” Michel said.

Garrus was thrumming with intrigue. “Or, maybe that quarian has something that Saren wants. Something worth crossing the Shadow Broker for.”

“It’s got to be evidence to prove he’s gone rogue.”

“She said that the information had something to do with the geth.”

“She must be able to link Saren to the geth. There’s no way the council can ignore something like this!”

Shepard pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “Well we better get moving then, huh? She’s probably meeting with Fist any minute now.” She looked to her companions and nodded, turning to leave.

“This is your show, Shepard,” Garrus interrupted, causing her to pause. The commander waved off the Lieutenant and Chief, before turning to the turian. “But I want to bring Saren down just as much as you do. I’m coming with you.”

“And what makes you think I’ll let you?”

“Because if I know anything about you Shepard, I know you’ll let me do this.” The subharmonics he was giving off calmed Shepard for a moment. “He’s a traitor to the Council, and a disgrace to my people!”

Shepard softened her look.

“Okay.”

“And he- wait, what?”

“I said okay, you can come.”

 Garrus relaxed visibly, and his mandibles trilled. “You know, we’re not the only ones looking for Fist. There’s a krogan bounty hunter that the Shadow Broker hired to take him out.”

Shepard smirked. “Turians, quarians, krogans- oh my!” Garrus didn’t understand the joke but he laughed anyways. “Well then, let’s go find ourselves a krogran then, Vakarian.”

Garrus smiled as he watched her turn and walk out of the med clinic.

“Vakarian!” He is shaken from his throughts, Shepard peering around the door. “You coming, or what? I don’t know where that krogan is.”

The turian shook his head and walked after her. _Same old Shepard._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, eh? Took a break after hitting a block. Now I'm back!


	11. Fire in My Belly, Riot in the Gut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a very brief, nondescript mention of suicide near the end.

Shepard led her team up the steps as the council went over the recording of Saren that the quarian, Tali, had handed over to them.

"You wanted your proof, and there it is!"

The Council looked between themselves; they hated to admit defeat. Once it was unanimously agreed that Saren would be stripped of his Spectre status, the bright orange light of their omnitool lit up on each arm.

"We cannot send a fleet after one person, Udina, but we do have another solution." Their fingers tapped against the solidified surface, before the light faded away. "One that will not need a fleet or armies to stop Saren."

Shepard felt the ping of her own omnitool, and glanced down at it.

_Spectre Status Recognized_

_"_ Commander Shepard, if you will please step forward."

Udina stepped back, finally happy with the advancement humanity was making in the new parts of the galaxy they had discovered. She glanced over to Anderson, and he gave her a small smile and a nod. Shepard took Udina's spot, feet were shoulder width apart and hands clasped together behind her back.

The asari councilor began, "The decision of the Council grants you all privileges and resources of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance division of the Citadel."

"Spectres are not trained but chosen," The salarian councilor continued, but Shepard felt herself zone out around then.

_Spectre. The first human spectre._

Mindior, Akuze, her N-training... All of that had prepared her for this moment. They are not trained, but chosen. Her life had trained her for this next step. She felt her chest expand with pride.

"This is a great accomplishment for you and your species, Commander," the turian councilor said, and she took it as much as a congratulations as it could be.

"I am honored, councilors. I hope I make mankind and the Council proud."

"Your first mission is to stop Saren by any means necessary, Commander."

Shepard nodded and the Council dismissed her.

"Way to go, Commander," Williams said with a grin once Shepard descended the stairs down into the commons area of the citadel tower. Shepard grinned back and playfully brushed off the dust on her shoulder armor.

"About damn time they awarded me for my excellent service. I didn't go through years of N-school training just to be stuck flying routine drop off missions until I'm Anderson's age."

 

 

“So… you and the good doctor, huh?”

“What are you getting at Shepard?”

“You and Michel. Do the do. The horizontal tango. The rodeo.”

“You mean sex?”

“No I mean petting puppies and braiding each other’s hair.”

“You’re a very confusing woman, Shepard.”

“ _Yes,_ Garrus, I meant sex.”

“The only human I’ve had relations with is you.”

She paused. “Really?”

“Wow, Shepard, you almost sound surprised. Yes, you're the only one. Why would I lie to you?”

Shepard didn't answer Garrus.

 

 

Shepard run her fingers through the long strand of hair that was unbraided, wet, and laying over her shoulder. She was dressed in her workout gear, fingerless gloves covering her hands. There was sweat soaked through her tank top. The _Normandy's_ crew was asleep, save for the co-pilot who was taking over for Joker and the few on second shift duty.

She couldn't sleep, not with her dreams being filled with the bright reminder of the Protheans and the terror that ripped their world apart one by one.

She walked the expanse of the shuttle bay, stretched her arms and tried to let herself fall into the familiar burn of a run, even if she was stuck in close quarters. Shepard bypassed the Mako and weapons lockers, taking deep breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth. She had made ten laps total before a turian in deep blue casuals appeared, leaning against the Mako.

Shepard slowed to a jog before stopping completely in front of him. Her chest moved up and down with each deep breath. Two fingers came up to check her pulse and she timed herself. Good, her heartrate was at an acceptable level.

“It’s past your bed time, Vakarian,” she said, walking over to grab the thermos of cold water and small hand towel to wipe her face clean. Garrus watched her, those blue eyes baring down on her like he was drinking her in once more.

“That’s a new scar,” he said, almost nonchalantly, but Shepard was surprised he had noticed. She was covered in scars, what was one more?

“Which one is that?” She tried to play it off like she wasn’t taken back by his statement, but if he knew her body that well… Did turians have memories that were _that_ good?

Garrus pushed himself off the Mako a moment later and strode over to her, that slight swagger in his walk still made her mouth water. Shepard made her breathing even out, but her heart was pounding like a drum in her chest. He leaned forward, mandibles flicking out and that same purr she always heard from him buzzed in her ears.

“This one,” he answered, gloved hand ghosting her waist where three through-bullet wounds had pierced her armor and then straight through her. “I don’t remember this one.”

“I got it during my last N-school,” she answered, tongue feeling like it had grown three sizes in her mouth. “That’s why I went back to Earth. N6 is the last designation you can get from their courses, and then I was immediately put into combat after recovering. I’ve been an N7 for only a few months. It’s… It’s weird. I’m not forced to wear the N7 on my clothing or armor, but they gave me all this free stuff and I didn’t particularly turn it all down.”

Garrus gave his version of a chuckle, his gloved hand coming up to play with the ends of the one long lock of hair that was splayed across part of her chest and back now, from her run.

“When people see me… it’s mostly the humans but there are some other species as well. They see me as this machine. This person that has killed and survived countless wars and raids and firefights. They used to call me the Butcher of Torfan.”

He heard her breath hitch, her first sign of wear on her inner strength.

“I survived Akuze and then what do I do? I turn around and kill to forget. Kill to balance out the ruthless calculus of the universe. No one else knows this, but the squad of batarians that I executed, they were on Mindoir. They were the ones that took my family. You don’t forget the faces and voices of the people that drag your family from their beds and then shoot any of them that run.”

Garrus took her into his arms and Shepard finds herself clinging to the back of his civvies. His cowl is hard against her cheek, but he’s purring to comfort her and the vibrations rumble from his chest to hers. Those hands no longer gloved, run over the short, buzzed hair at the base of her neck before brushing through the longer pieces closer to the top.

“You don’t have to continue,” he tells her, so low her translator almost doesn’t pick it up. “Whether you’ve killed one or one thousand, I don’t care Shepard. You’ve been through some shit and still find the will to crawl out of bed every morning. I have more respect for you than I do anyone else.”

Shepard mumbled something against his cowl, but he didn’t bothering asking her to repeat it.  

“I know some men that haven’t seen half the shit you’ve dealt with, and are a lot worse off.”

Shepard didn’t speak for a few moments, and Garrus didn’t push her.

“There was another assignment…” she started but trailed over. “On Elysium. I could have taken it, become a goddamn war hero. Could have gotten the fucking Star of Terra if I had been there. Hell, I would probably be a Rear Admiral now if I had gone. But the second I found out about the batarians on Torfan…”

“Shepard, don’t.”

“No, I need. I need to get this out or it’s going to fucking haunt me for the rest of my days.”

Garrus let her speak.

“I _killed_ those men, Garrus. Without hesitation. Took my pistol, pointing between all of their fucking eyes and shot them. All six of them. The leader, he remembered me. Begged me for mercy, asked me to forgive him, he –“

Her voice caught and her throat burned. Garrus led her over to the Mako and they both sat down, leaning against the large rear tire. Shepard stared across the way at the weapons lockers. Her pistol was so close. She could just easy take it out and point it up –

“Stop, Toni.” She looked up, surprised at his sternness. And he had used her name. She hadn’t been called Toni in… years. It was always Shepard, or Commander. “Stop. I know that look and… spirits, how could you even think that?”

“It’d be for the best.”

“No it wouldn’t.”

Shepard didn’t fight him. They sat there until one of the first engineers for the first shift came down, dragging his feet with a mug of coffee in hand. He raised an eye at the two, but said nothing.

After hours of silence, Shepard stood and walked away, fingers slowly braiding at the small strand over her shoulder.

 

 

“Why did you cut your hair?”

Shepard looked up from the datapad she was reading, waiting for Joker to brief her on when they were going to jump through the relay. There was a small side mission they needed to complete for the Admiral before going after Dr. T’Soni.

“What do you mean?”

“When we first met, you hair was very long. And then… you cut it. But you still have that little… thing.” He motioned to her braid as he sat down in the mess across from her.

“Oh.” She sat down the mug of coffee and her fingers instantly went to the end of the small braid. “During Torfan, I got hit with a plasma ball. Shields were low and I wasn’t watching my flank. Singed off half my hair. I had seen this really interested hairstyle, where you use the braid kind of like a hairband.” She moved the braid so that it wrapped around her head, and Garrus had to admit it added very nicely to her features. “So I kept it.”

She shrugged, and Garrus just twitched a mandible in amusement. Shepard paused for a moment, before giving him a small smile and continuing to read her datapad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Almost two months since my last update. Sorry about that, folks, things got crazy.   
> Working on a few chapters for you guys.  
> Enjoy, and thanks for reading.


	12. Sweet Taste of Blood

FROM: _CDR A. Shepard_  
TO: _CAPT D. Anderson_  
SUBJECT: _Normandy_  
Captain,   
I would like to thank you again for giving me the opportunity to command the Normandy and her crew to find and stop Saren. I won't let you down, sir.   
Shepard

FROM: _David_  
TO: _Shepard_  
SUBJECT: _re: Normandy_  
There is no one else I would trust more with her. Make me proud.  
David  
P.S. You're no longer my XO, Shepard, and I am no longer your commanding officer. You answer directly to Admiral Hackett and the Council now. I believe we can bypass the formalities.

 

Shepard laughed softly to herself and closed off the screen of her omnitool. Alenko glanced back, not use to the sound coming from his commanding officer.

“Ready for your first ride in the Mako, lieutenant?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Garrus, you’re driving.”

Garrus looked up in surprise. He had spent most of his time in the shuttle bay, talking either with the requisition officer or with Tali, making his keep by tuning up the beast that was the Mako.

“Are you sure, Shepard?”

The woman gave him a look with a twinkling eye. “You questioning my authority, Vakarian?”

“No, ma’am. I’ll go put my armor on.”

“You do that.”

They were landing on Edolus; the _Normandy’s_ scanners had picked up a distress beacon while they were hopping back and forth between systems and scanning planets, looking into Admiral Hackett’s little side mission. Also, Shepard was trying to put off looking for Dr. T’Soni; Garrus was trying to find the right moment to ask why.

The team, once Garrus arrived with his rifle and pistol and dressed in a modified version of his C-Sec armor, all climbed into the Mako. Garrus caught the glimpse of her drinking a shot from a flask that she hid in an outer pocket of her armor. When had she started doing that?

Joker pulled the _Normandy_ through the planet’s atmosphere and dropped them down a few klicks from the beacon’s location.

As Garrus pushed on the acceleration, he glanced over at his crewmates. Alenko was manning the scanner and communications back to Normandy. Shepard had taken the cannon and guns, but her face was unusually stern, even if she had just been laughing at a message on her omnitool.

“So, Shepard,” Garrus started, “any reason I’m driving?”

“Because I can’t.”

Alenko pulled away from the scanner. “Wait, you mean you can’t drive the Mako or can’t drive anything?”

“Can’t drive anything.” There was a silence among the three, and Garrus had to lock his mandible so not to laugh. His subharmonics, however, gave away his mirth. “Crashed my family’s tractor back on Mindoir all the time. I can fly, and I’m not _that_ good at flying, but I can give Joker a run for his money. I’ve had my fair share of emergency shuttle evacs and flight simulators.”

The look of shock on Alenko’s face was enough to make the turian finally laugh.

“That’s not an answer I was expecting, commander,” Garrus said.

Shepard grinned, and the look in her twinkling eye told him that this was only the beginning of things he didn’t know. “What were you expecting?”

“Something along the lines of, ‘I like big guns and I cannot lie’.”

Shepard almost fell out of her seat laughing, and Alenko had trouble covering his own grin.

“The turian made a human joke! Quick, someone call the Alliance News, this is big.”

 The crew laughed before hitting a few bumpy dunes and sobered up to put their focus back in the mission at hand. Shepard couldn’t wipe the grin off her face, however, and she felt relieved that things weren’t going to be awkward between them now. It wasn’t good to have a past with fellow soldiers, especially when one was a higher rank than the other, but since they had a preexisting relationship prior to this mission, they didn’t have to follow the same regs. _Don’t shit where you fuck_ , her N-school drill sergeant had told her.

“Commander, I’m getting a reading on the scanner.”

Shepard leaned back in her chair and glanced over the radar. Her face grew hard. “There’s something big out there.” She faced forward at her cannon again and enlarged the targeting screen. “Garrus, be ready, you might have to floor it out of there, if it’s what I think it is.”

“What do you think it is?” Alenko asked, but she did not answer. Garrus pulled them closer to the beacon.

The beacon came into sight, as well as the half dozen bodies of marines. Even through the thick walls and the barrier of her mask, Shepard could smell the acid. Shepard did her best to keep her breath steady – in through nose, out through mouth.

The ground shook and the stabilizers of the Mako kicked in.

“Commander, there’s something coming!”

Shepard closed her eyes as the screech of the Thresher Maw echoed in the cabin of the Mako. Garrus turning away from the window just long enough to look for the expression on her face. Her helmet did a good job of hiding any emotion she may have, and when she didn’t start shooting like he hoped, Garrus spun the Mako away to dodge the spit of acid and took cover in the mountains not too far away. It would keep the maw away long enough to regroup.

“Alenko, keep your eyes on that scanner. Let me know if it gets any closer.”

The lieutenant nodded, but watched with a confused expression as Garrus unhooked his harness and climbed into the higher seats to talk to their commander.

“Shepard? Shepard can you hear me?”

_Move, Shepard, move! Move, Shepard, move! Move, Shepard, move! Move, Shepard, move! Move, Shep-_

_She lifted her rifle to her chest with one arm and reached out for Toombs’ hand. He took it, and the half dozen of the troop left took off running. She couldn’t hear the shuttle, but she could feel the vibrations in the air as the hover-pods thrummed. They were close. The Maw was closer._

_Don’t stop running, Shepard!_

_She didn’t. Everything was dark. Acid on her face and the blood on her cheeks. Don’t stop, Shepard. Don’t stop._

_Two hands came out and grabbed for her, pulling her weight into the shuttle. She couldn’t hear the yelling, but she could feel their words against her hands, and their orders on the tips of her dead fingers. She shook like a leaf in a hurricane, skin chilled from shock. There was a blanket put on top of her, but the cold floor of the shuttle made her shiver more._

_So cold. So dark. Cold, dark. Cold. Dark. Cold dark cold dark cold dark cold dark cold-_

_So young._

Shepard!

She opened her eyes, finally, and felt her chest explode in pain. How long had she been holding her breath? Even though their helmets, Shepard could see the worry in Garrus.

“We’re calling an emergency evac. You need to get to Chakwas. We’ll get Wrex and take care of the maw.”

“No!”

The cabin of the Mako went silent. Garrus waited as she caught her breath and sat up a little straighter in her chair. He could see her waver, but she held fast. Shepard gripped the controls for the cannons.

“You don’t have to do this, Shepard.” Garrus covers on her hands on the controls, giving her the choice to continue or let him help her. She refuses the help.

“Yes, I do.”

Alenko watches the scene in silence, knowing that there is something he is missing.

Garrus moves away, checking one last time to make sure she was alright, before harnessing himself back into the Mako. Slowly, just in case Shepard _did_ change her mind, he eased on the acceleration. Once out from behind the mountains, he could hear her heavy breath over his commlink. Garrus didn’t say anything, he would let her do what she must. Close to the beacon, the maw screeched and broke through the rock again.

At any other moment, Garrus would have laughed at her battle cry, at her curses.

_Take that, you braindead son of a parasitic grub! Yeah, you’re gonna wish you were dead when I’m done blasting holes in you! This is for Akuze!_

He maneuvered the Mako away from the spits of acid, watching as the maw moved to try and flank them. He would do this all day if he knew it would help Shepard move on. She yelled some more, waiting for the cannon to recharge, and laid down on the guns so hard that they overheated. Impatience overtook her and she ripped herself from her harness and opened the hatch to slide outside onto the terrain.

“Shepard!”

She was an _idiot,_ Garrus had officially decided on. She had a death wish and he wasn’t about to allow it to come true.

Garrus yanked himself from the Mako as well, and Alenko followed simply to make sure they didn’t die.

Her next battle cries were so loud, he had to mute his comm.

She unloaded her shotgun on it. Then her rifle, and even with unfocused shots she still able to hit it in the face. And lastly, just as it screeched in pain one last time, she emptied her pistol into one of its eyes and it fell to the ground dead. It was then Garrus turned the comm back on and waited. Alenko walked over to shut down the distress beacon and check the bodies of the men, looking for any signs of identification.

It was when Shepard fell to her knees in the dirt that Garrus walked over and knelt beside her.

“Toni?” he asked softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She was surrounded by her overheated weapons, looking like a true war veteran. “Come on, let’s get back to the ship. Chakwas needs to look at you.”

She said nothing and let him help her stand. Alenko met them back at the Mako, hands full of military dog tags. They would inform Kohaku of what became of his me. Right now, Garrus as more worried about Shepard’s mental state.

They had first met when she was going through a hard time with her memories, he could only assume how she was feeling right now.

Garrus moved through the mess hall and in front of the door that led to Shepard's quarters. The crew was asleep, save for the co-pilot and a few of the second shift controllers. He had seen the effect of the Maw on Shepard earlier, he needed to make sure she was okay.

He remembered the morning after she had spent the night on his couch, sobering up from another night of drinking. It hadn't been a pretty sight.

He pressed the buzzer on the door, not wanting to draw attention to himself by knocking. There was no answer and when he passed his hand over the screen to try and hack the lock of the door, it opened without any pause. It hadn't been locked?

Once the door was open, Garrus wasn't all too surprised at the scene before him.

The room smelled horribly of alcohol.

Shepard was pacing her quarters, body bare of any clothing except for her undergarments. Her hands would switch places every few steps; sometimes rubbing around her arms, over the scars left behind by the Akuze accident, or holding her head, or rubbing the scar across her nose.  He watched her for a few moments before calling out her name.

She didn't reply, and he had to remind himself that she had probably turned off her in-ears. She had done that last time, as well.

Slowly, so not to surprise her, Garrus came into her line of view and reached out for her. While her eyes were open, they weren't focused in on him. The cybernetics flashed white before her eyes were no longer glazed over. With a quick breath, she pulled up her omnitool and flicked her implants back on.

"I can hear them," she said softly, and Garrus stroked his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, and took her hands in his. "They're not here, but I can hear them. I had to turn off my in-ears, trying to see if it was real or just in my head. Their screams. Garrus, I --"

He shushed her and held her to his body. He hadn't changed out of his arm, but he knew the touch would help even if just a little.

She stumbled away from him and to the bed, picking up an empty bottle. Shepard stared at it, trying to figure out where the alcohol had gone before she dropped it back down beside three other empty bottles.

Garrus walked over and sat beside her, reaching up to run his fingers over the back of her neck like she did to him a few times before. Her body visibly relaxed, head tilted forward and eyes closed in peacefulness.

"You're safe, Shepard," he said, quietly. She nodded. His talons stroked down her neck to her back, across some of the large scaring. He paused near her waist, where the three bullet holes that had gone in through her front returned through her back. Garrus touched them, felt them, made himself remember that she was a soldier and war was her life. "How do you feel?"

"Sleepy," she answered almost immediately, head still ducked down, but she was watching him through her peripherals.

"Get some sleep, then. We're a few hours out from Therum."

Shepard finally looked up at him, and Garrus felt his heart drop in his chest. He had never seen such a strong person so _fragile_. It was as if he could take her in his hands and at the slightest bump, she would shatter into dust.

"Stay with me? Just until I fall asleep."

He nodded, and together they found the releases of his armor so that they could lay comfortably in her smaller bed. She had plenty of pillows to help him prop up on, to keep from being uncomfortable with his thick cowl, and Shepard pressed again his side, her head propped on his shoulder and the soft hide of his inner arm.

Garrus stayed long after she had fallen asleep.


	13. Feel Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been updating a lot lately, so if you're just now seeing these updates, please be sure to check and make sure you haven't missed a chapter! Thanks.

Garrus didn't even realize he had fallen asleep until he awoke at the sound of the door to Shepard's quarters clicking as they opened. He roused himself then, sitting up to see the offender. The door closed behind Shepard, a small thing with tiny bristles in one hand and her wet hair dripping onto the damp towel she had around her shoulders. She was wearing the tight uniform she usually wore underneath her armor when on missions.

It showed the perfect curve of her waist and he felt the saliva start to pool in his mouth.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," she said with a grin, voice soft, but eyes wide awake.

"I thought you'd be passed out from all that alcohol you drank last night," he murmured, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. Garrus was still in his own under-armor uniform.

"I woke up a little while ago, went to Chakwas for some stims." She shrugged, and he flicked his mandibles down in a frowning motion. Stimulants would only last so long before she crashed. "Needed to get a shower, get the stench off me."

She was right. The room still had a thick alcohol cloud, but he could smell her soap and the shower water in her hair.

"Figured I'd let you sleep in. I'm taking Williams and Tali with me on this trip." His harmonics showed his dislike for it, and she laughed at him. "You sound like a hummingbird."

"A what?" Garrus asked, watching as she laid the towel across the back of a chair and slowly walked toward the bed. He could see his armor laid neatly out on the small couch attached to the wall near her desk, but his eyes went back to her form as she climbed onto the bed and crawled up his form. Garrus was still, not sure how to handle her attitude, but she did nothing more than press her forehead to his – something that shocked him into silence for a little longer – and lean against the headboard beside him.

Garrus quickly swallowed the saliva in his mouth before he began to drool.

"Shepard," he said softly, not able to meet her eye. "You do know what the means, right?"

"Yeah." Of course she would brush off something like that. They needed to talk. Soon. Garrus was trying to keep track of everything, but there had been no advancement in their relationship until then, and he was confused as hell. "It means I have great respect and admiration for you. The longer I hold it, the more it could mean, so I only did it for a couple of seconds."

Garrus took a deep breath and when he hummed again in thought, she put her hand on his stomach and it shocked him enough to make him hum a little harder. "Shepard, what are you doing?"

"You were doing it while you were sleeping. It felt nice."

While he was sleeping?

"Commander, Ash and Tali ae waiting for you in the shuttle bay whenever you're ready," Joker said over the intercom, interrupting the moment. Shepard gave him a look that he knew he was going to be deciphering for some time, before rolling off the bed and onto her feet.

It was when she began the process of putting on her armor that Garrus stood and helped her. She understood the base of the forehead-touching, Garrus could give her that much, but if she had only held it for a little while longer...

Snapping the last clip of her armor, Shepard felt the armor power up and suddenly her body didn't feel so sluggish (even with the stims she still felt her hangover). She said a small thanks and gave him a smile when he handed over her helmet. Shepard pulled a small flask from a slot in her armor and drank from it quickly. She wiped her mouth with the back of her glove, and replaced it.

He did frown, however, once she was out of sight. Garrus wasn’t an expert on human physiology, but he knew enough that humans couldn’t survive off just alcohol, and that was all he had seen her consume over the past few days.

"I'll be waiting for you," Garrus told her and she nodded. He watched her walk out of her quarters and to the elevator.

 _Firm with a little give_.

 

 

“Fuck!”

Shepard launched herself from the driver's seat of the Mako and into the guns. Williams, after finding out Shepard couldn't drive, took it upon herself to teach the commander how. The Mako was not a very good vehicle to use. She could press on the accelerator with the softest foot and it would still lurch forward over the rocky terrain and she would curse again and swerve until slamming on the brake. Tali wasn't very happy about smacking her helmet against the screen of the scanner for the third time.

It was supposed to be a simple drive and pick up, but geth had showed up and now they were having to fight their way to the facility.

Ashley took over the controls again pulling them out of the way just before a missile from one of the geth could hit the Mako. She didn't need Garrus chewing her a new one because she destroyed his pet project. Shepard saw the way he looked at the thing when she first went to see him when they boarded the _Normandy_.

With a few cannons, the geth were taken care of and only ten percent of the shields were used. They would regen soon enough. Or so she thought.

There was a gate facility not far away overrun by turrets and more geth, which were taken care of until they had to rock-paper-scissor who would have to get out and open the gate. Shepard, much to her disdain, lost and ran (quickly, _very_ quickly) for the keypad. One more geth down and a gate open, they continued on their way.

Another squad dropped down, armatures and troopers and a _god damn colossus_ , and they spent the better half of an hour fighting them off before catching a break. The guns had overheated a few times and the heat of the planet was getting to them. Shepard's fans were working extra hard to keep up and she was sweating through her armor – the stimulants would only last so much longer with her sweating so quickly.

"I'm ready to get off this god forsaken planet," Williams grumbled over the comm and Shepard agreed fully with her.

When they came across a jut in the mountains that made it impossible for the Mako to continue, the three counted their prayers and took on the heat. Shepard instantly started to curse more the second they came across more geth. Snipers, too.

She crouched behind a boulder and changed out her pistol for her own rifle, checking the scope. There had been no time to tune it after the Edolus mission, and now she was regretting it.

"Commander, I need you to take out those snipers!" Williams yelled.

Shepard growled over the comm and set herself up, lining up the shot. "I'm on it, chief, but it's hot as satan's balls out here and sweat is getting in my eyes."

This mission wasn't going to end well if they spent the rest of the mission snapping at each other. Tali was the mediator for the moment, yelling for them both to shut up before cocking her shotgun and firing at another trooper.

They took a break in the shade, but it did nothing as they tried to cool off. Their fans were running twice as hard and still it did little help.

"Almost there, my scanners are picking up the dig site is just over that hill," Tali said, her synthesized voice sounding strained over the heat baking them slowly.

"The first thing I'm doing after picking up this Dr. T'Soni is having the sergeant make me a big lemon slushie. Whatcha say, chief?"

"Please don't talk about ice, it just makes me feel hotter," Ashley groaned, checking her fans again to make sure they were at max speed. Shepard laughed but stopped when she felt more sweat fall into her eyes. Damnit, it was already hard enough to see with the heat making the scenery waver.

"Almost there," Shepard said, trying her best to keep them pushing forward. Through the snipers and up another hill was the facility that Dr. T’Soni would be at. However, they also found another troop of geth. A colossus was already hard enough to get down with the Mako’s cannons, and now they had to do it on foot?

“You gotta be kidding me,” Shepard groaned over the comm before dodging behind a crate in a scramble to not be hit with a geth missile. “Tali!” she yelled, leaving cover to make a few shots with her pistol before going back under. “No offense, but your ancestors really made a bad choice in making these fuckers.”

“Noted!” the quarian replied, and the trio worked to wear down the machines.

 

 

The moment the Mako was back in the Normandy, and Shepard was not breathing in sulfur-rich air, she yanked her helmet off and unlocked the clips of her chest armor. Each piece dropped to the floor of the cargo bay as she fell to her knees and pressed her face to the cold metal. There was sweat pooling in the middle of her back, dripping down her face and soaked in her boots.

“It couldn’t have been that bad, Shepard,” Garrus said with a twitching mandible. She looked up at him, tongue almost sticking out as she panted like a dog.

“Lava. Just… nothing but lava. In lakes. Huge lakes. It was bad.”

“Palaven has constant radiation from our sun. Why do you think we adapted to grow plates?”

Shepard held up her middle finger, and if it wasn’t for his history with working for C-Sec he would have been completely clueless as to what it meant. Garrus thrummed with amusement and gave her his version of a chuckle as he walked over and offered a hand to her.

“All you had to do was ask.”

“Smug shark bastard,” she murmured.

Alenko threw towels at Williams and Shepard, and the two females were quick to drench it with sweat that had procured from them during the mission. They threw them back, almost simultaneously, at the lieutenant and he shouted out in shock as the warm wetness touched him. The soldiers headed up the elevator, Garrus and Tali following them. Garrus had quietly decided to himself that he would tackle the Mako later – he would hate to see the damage done by the so-called ‘lava lakes’.

Liara had been whisked away by a crew member to be checked up by the doctor. While Shepard and her team may be use to near-death experiences, the same could not be said for the young asari.

The sergeant of the mess was waiting for the two soldiers with two large cups of ice and a half dozen bottles of water.

“Oh thank god,” Shepard murmured, taking the first bottle and chugging it quickly. Soon, somehow, sh and Ashley turned it into a competition of who could drink faster, then who could burp louder, than who could eat the most ice cubes before they got a brain freeze. The non-humans of the ship were confused by their antics, but no one else seemed to be phased with it.

Humans are weird.

Once the two finally stopped, having to call a draw as they both proceeded to deal with agonizing headaches, Ashley stood and claimed she would be dumping buckets of cold water on herself in the bathroom if anyone was looking for her. Shepard laughed and mentioned something about joining her soon as she dug out a few pieces of ice from her cup and pressed them against the side of her neck.

It was then that Garrus saw the look Kaiden was giving her, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Shepard sighed softly and sunk into the cool, plastic chair a little further. She was finally fully out of her armor instead of just half way, and the under-armor uniform clung to her with sweat. The ice cube between her fingers slipped under the collar of her shirt and she didn’t bother to dig it out, shivering at the nice chill as she cooled off.

When she shivered a second time, it was then that Garrus (and Kaiden) realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Alenko coughed loudly as he stood quickly, making an excuse about going to mod his pistol, before running down to the cargo bay where the weapons bench waited for him. Shepard didn’t give him a second glanced, but she did let her eyes fall on Garrus.

Shepard winked at him before closing her eyes again and relaxing. She didn’t move for some time, and he almost thought she had fallen asleep. When the click of the women’s showers opened and closed, and a clean Ashley walked out in fresh fatigues and her wet hair hanging down to dry, Shepard slinked out of her chair and took over the showers for herself.

He briefly debated about waiting for her in her quarters, but thought better and instead decided that he best tackle the Mako now. 

(Garrus would beat himself silly later on, because he would miss the slightly disappointed look as Shepard walked into her quarters, clad in only her towel, and found it empty.)


	14. Familiar Places

The moment Shepard ended the call with Admiral Hackett with a sharp salute, she sighed after she dropped it. Missing marines? The last thing she needed right now was to deter away from stopping Saren, but she was a human before she was a Spectre. She was an N7, not a Citadel lapdog.

Her own home planet, even if she had not been born there, came first. 

“Alright, Joker, set a course for the coordinates Hackett sent.”

“Aye, aye, commander.”

Shepard moved through the ship and paused in front of the elevator. It was better to just ping them.

She turned and walked to her quarters instead.

“Garrus,” she called over her comm, holding her omnitool up to her mouth as she shuffled through datapads of reports on her desk she needed to finish.

“Yes, commander?”

He only called her commander when others were around, so she needed to keep the teasing to a minimum.

“Remember how you said Therum wasn’t that bad?”

There was a pause. “Yes?”

Shepard grinned, and she knew that he knew she was grinning. “Suit up. You’re going with me on this next ground mission. Grab Williams, too. Be ready in half an hour.”

“Aye, aye, commander.”

She closed the link after his agreement.

 

While this planet wasn't nearly as hot as Therum, Shepard was still having trouble with the temperature. Williams had been burning death glares in the back of her head ever since they landed. The Mako would only get so cool before the heat became too much, and their fans were still working double time.

"What's the verdict, Vakarian?"

"This is a nice summer day on Palaven," he answered, but Shepard could hear the slight tilt in his voice that said otherwise. The heat was affecting him too, but he was trying to push through.

"You're both insane," Williams muttered over the comm, panting so hard it was fogging her helmet glass. "Can we go somewhere cold next? Please?"

"Noveria is next on the list."

"Screw you, ma'am."

Shepard laughed. "Noted, chief."

 

FROM: FADM S. Hackett  
TO: CMD A. Shepard  
SUBJECT: re: Geth Distress Beacon  
Shepard,  
I received your report of the incident on Metgos. I will make other ships aware of the geth and to be on the look out for any fake beacons. Good work, Commander.  
Hackett

 

FROM: Toni  
TO:  Max  
SUBJECT: re: re: re: Visit for the holidays  
I don't know, Max. Things are hectic out here right now. I'm sorry I can't let you in on anymore than I have, but the Alliance would have my head if a civilian knew the stuff I have to do.  
T

FROM: Max  
TO: Toni  
SUBJECT: Or you'll have to kill me  
You are the worst cousin ever. I'm taking back my offer to name my kid after you.  
M, aka, the best cousin in the galaxy

FROM: Toni  
TO: Max  
Subject: re: Or you'll have to kill me  
I don't know why you would want to curse that kid with a name like mine. Seriously, I hate my father for naming me Antonia. Why do you think I try to erase it?  
T

FROM: Max  
TO: Toni  
SUBJECT: Names  
Reminder: My parents named me Maxine.  
M, aka, still the best cousin in the galaxy

FROM: Toni  
TO: Max  
SUBJECT: re: Names  
You win this one.  
T

 

 _PRIVATE COMMUNICATIONS THREAD OPENING_  
_USERS LOGGING IN_

 _0152 TS: Are you awake?_  
_0154 GV: No._  
_0155 TS: Good. I wanted to go for a joyride in the Mako. Maybe I'll invite Tali._  
_0157 GV: Not funny, Shepard._  
_0157 TS: I'm hilarious, Vakarian. You're just jealous of my human humor._  
_0200 GV: Go to sleep._  
_0202 TS: I can't._  
_0204 GV: Too busy thinking of a certain turian?_  
_0205 TS: Yes, but not the one you think I'm thinking of._  
_0209 TS: Garrus?_

_USER HAS DISCONNECTED_

 

Shepard worriedly looked at her omnitool. Maybe he had simply fallen asleep? She sat on her bed, chewing on her lip, before the stillness became too much. There was a bar she had installed near her window overlooking space, and she wasted no time in grabbing hold of it and pulling her chin to touch the bar, before hanging again. She repeated this process, not dropping until her chin hit the bar, until the click of her door sounded.

Sometime after the night they had spent together before Therum, she had coded the VI to let him in whenever he arrived. No need to make he walk all the way over to the controls and let him in that way.

She didn't stop her chin ups, but she did curiously listen for his movements.  What was he doing?

There was moments of silence before she finally dropped down and turned to face him.

Garrus was leaning against her desk, no longer in his modded armor and instead in some civvies, watching her with those space-blue eyes.

"Don't stop on my account."

She smirked at him and shook her head. However, his playfulness fell and so did her smirk.

"Shepard, we need to talk."

Her eyes closed as she cursed under her breath. She knew this was coming.

"Oh."

"No, wait, I- Shepard- Spirits, that sounded a lot more ominous than I meant." He rubbed at the back of his neck, and then he sheepishly fidgeted with his hands. She had to keep from cooing at him.

Shepard laughed softly, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. "Is it a right now kind of thing, or can it wait?" It felt odd asking him to wait, especially when this was going to be an important conversation between the two. (She was scared. So, terribly scared.)

"It can wait, but I'd rather it be sooner than later."

“We’ve got to head to the Citadel, but I’ll order some shore leave, yeah? We could all use a break, even if it’s just a day.”

"Sounds like a date."

Shepard smiled, truly smiled, and he returned his closest imitation. A flick of a mandible, a warm purr that tickled her ear, and a look so soft she thought she would melt.

"Go catch some sleep, Garrus."

He waited for a moment, almost as if locked between two warring decisions of what to do. She half hoped he would...

"Dream well, Shepard."

Garrus pushed away from the desk and walked back out the door he had entered. When the doors shut behind him, she sighed and walked over to her desk. It was covered in datapads; leads on Saren, different assignments from Hackett, a possible promotion from Commander to Captain...

Captain Shepard.

Didn't have as much strength as Commander.

Shepard pulled off her tank top and turned to climb into her bed, hoping to fight off the insomnia that seemed to strike her that night, but her door clicked open once again. She barely had time enough to turn around before she felt Garrus' ungloved hands grab her waist and lift her up to his height. His lip plates pressed firmly to hers and his tongue was like warm crushed velvet against her own.

She could get use to this kind of talking.

He placed her back down, bending to keep their lips from separating but finally parted. She made a sound of protest.

"Sleep." Was his only word, and he walked out again.

Shepard followed the command, lips warm as she grinned. 

 

"First it's the missing marines," Shepard grumbled, crossing her arms as she took the co-pilot seat next to Joker. They were busy scanning nearby planets as they jumped from Mass Relay to the next, heading to the Citadel. "Then it's the missing scientists. Now it's the missing engineers. What's next? The case of the missing matching sock?"

Joker let out one of his usual loud laughs, and it softened Shepard's deep frown.

"C'mon, Commander, who else would they have to do their dry-cleaning?"

"Preferably not me." He laughed again, and Shepard sighed, sinking further into the seat. A repeating ping signaled to the two that there was more than minerals and rocks awaiting them on the planet's surface.

"Looks like we found those engineers, Commander."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you." She sighed heavily before pulling herself out of the seat and heading to her armor locker. Trebin had lots of hills and lots of sand. Not as much sand as Edolus had, but enough that it made Shepard shiver at the prosperity of a maw. Akuze had been sandy, too. She shivered again at the thought.

The Mako was waiting, with Kaidan and Wrex taking her six this round. If turians could pout, Garrus was surely doing the equivalent of it as he watched Shepard click her helmet into place. She offered him a two finger salute, and his mandibles flicked out in response.

_Be safe. Come back to me._

_Always._

When Shepard went to reach for her flask, hidden in a small compartment in her armor, she found the space empty. She looked back at Garrus just as the Mako doors closed. The asshole had probably taken it out sometime the night before. _Asshole_. Now she couldn’t have her lucky drink, like she did before every mission.

While she originally had it planned in her head to let Wrex drive the Mako and Kaidan man the radar, it seemed the two men had better plans. Wrex sat (almost begrudedly) behind the communications terminal, while Kaidan took a main seat at the wheel. Shepard was happy that her gunner position was still open.

“Ready, team?”

They both grunted in answer. Shepard accepted it. For now.

 

“God fucking… why a thresher maw! I could handle anything else!”

Kaidan swerved the Mako out of the way of the Maw’s spewing acid. The wheels kicked up the sand, blocking them from view as Shepard went over her options. Garrus wasn’t there to keep her steady. She took a deep breath, gathering herself.

“Alenko, flank the damn thing!” Her hands gripped the gun trigger a little harder. “We’re taking that beetle breath mother fucker _down_!”

If it wasn’t for the blood pumping hard in her ears, Shepard would have heard Wrex’s _who-rah!_

Shepard felt the familiar ache in her back, across her cheeks. Her ears were ringing. She could smell the acid through the vents as it sprayed toward the circling Mako again and again. Shepard felt the gun recoil as it shot another rocket. This one straight for the eye.

The creature screeched something otherworldly before falling into the sands of the planet. The ground rumbled as it moved, Wrex giving Kaidan positions as they picked it up on the radar before it disappeared completely.

"Is it gone?" Kaidan asked.

All was still. Shepard’s breath was fogging up the glass on the inside of her helmet. Sweat creeped down the back of her neck and into the fabric of her under armor. It pooled at the base of her back as she watched the monitors.

Finally, with one last exhale, Shepard leans back against her sheet, but refuses to release her hands from the gun controls. Kaidan moves slowly over the sandy dunes, Wrex keeps his eyes on the radar. They roll until they’re at the base of a mountain, and while Shepard does not relax, she opens the radio to the Normandy.

“Joker, start a transfer. Tell Ash to suit up, I’m going back to the ship.”

She does not wait for him to reply, and simply lets Alenko work with the flight lieutenant so an evac point. Shepard does not realize she’s shaking until she stands on her own two feet and walks toward the open bay door. Ashley walks down, and the two pass, but Shepard keeps her head straight.

Garrus is waiting for her but does not move when she walks right past him and into the elevator to go up to the command deck.

Once the elevator doors close and the lift begins to rise, Shepard hits the emergency stop button so hard she momentarily fears she has broken it. Her hands unclip her helmet and she searches for her flask of liquid courage in her armor, but remembers it was taken from her. She punches the inner wall of the elevator and leaves a dent the size of her fist. The sting is strong, but she is stronger.

The elevator only begins to move again half an hour later when the maintenance tech overrides her emergency stop. They find her sitting on the floor of the box, eyes distant. She is still in that vehicle, still on that planet, still staring up at the creature that has haunted her life like a shadow for the past half dozen years.

They take the stairs.

Shepard sits in the elevator for almost an hour later until the doors open again and a familiar Turian sits down beside her. Garrus says nothing, but his presence haunts her as well.

“Nihlus did not deserve to die,” she told him. “He should have gone on. He was a great Spectre, a great Turian. Over the few weeks I had gotten to know him, he made me realize something.”

Garrus looks to her, but Shepard does not look to him.

She pauses.

“Life is too short to keep looking over your shoulder. That’s why God put a gun in my hand and a bullet in the chamber. Either it’s me, or them, and red doesn't look good on me.”


	15. Haven't Left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> This chapter contains a very triggering scene that includes successful suicide and mentions of past abuse. If this is a subject for you have trouble handling, please refrain from reading the section of this chapter that begins with "Talitha" and then continue reading at "Why did you want to be a C-Sec officer?".

As Shepard stepped off of the Normandy, it was obvious she had not been sleeping well. She was in desperate need of a sleeping pill and a warm source to sleep on. Shepard probably didn’t even need the sleeping pill, she would probably sleep for the next 16 hours easily on her own. But she had a report to give and a council to report to before she could even think of a nap.

Shepard kept her armor on, for now. The rest of the crew, for the most part, had changed into their civvies and left the ship for a restful twenty-four hours of off-duty fun.

Shepard crossed paths with Garrus at the main elevator that would take her down to C-Sec.

“Meet me for drinks in an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Shepard smiled at Garrus’ thrum, the vibration tickling the inside of her ear.

They entered the elevator together, taking it down alone. There was distance between them both, but only barely. Shepard’s fingers gently brushed against his gloved ones. Her lips turned up into another smile and his mandible flicked in amusement. Earth brown met space blue.

A pink tongue flicked out to wet dry lips, lips searching to form her words. A muscle in his leg twitched.

Both breathed in the filtered air of the Citadel slowly.

The door to the elevator opened and Shepard stepped out first. Garrus followed closely behind, his gloved hands itching to hold her firm waist again, but they split ways.

Shepard bypassed a nosy reporter, threatening to shoot the woman’s camera if she didn’t turn it off.

Her omni-tool pinged, and a crackle was heard in her ear before a voice came over asking for her.

_Commander Shepard?_

“Who is this? This is a private comm.”

Shepard wanted nothing more than to ignore the ping and go sleep, but there must be a reason she was being called on by some random person. A random person who had access to her communications. That was never a good sign.

_I apologize, Commander. This is Lieutenant Girard in the docking bay. The Alliance command gave me access to contact you. We have a situation. There’s a… woman down here. She was rescued a few weeks ago from Batarian slavers. She was from Mindoir, taken during the raid on your town._

Shepard closed her eyes slowly, breathing deeply.

Over the last ten years, all Shepard had thought was that her entire colony was dead. Killed there during the raid or later after taken prisoner. Shepard pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek, pausing any words that would have spilled out if she didn’t watch herself.

_She got away from her caretaker, and we found her here in the bay. She took one of my guy’s guns. She says…_

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

_She says she wants to die._

Shepard squeezed her eyes a little harder.

_I was hoping you might talk to her? I know it’s a long shot, but you went through similar things. I figured you could calm her down and uh, ‘talk her out of her tree,’ so to speak._

“I’m on my way, Lieutenant. Sit tight. Inform me of any changes.”

_Of course, commander._

Quiet.

“Shepard?” The commander looked to the turian, face even and blank. “What is it?”

“There’s a… situation on the docks.”

Could she save her? Could she do anything to help the poor girl?

Garrus nodded, and followed her back to the elevator. Shepard was glad she didn’t have to ask him to accompany her.

 

“Talitha? Talitha Marren?”

The girl… she looked like a feral animal. Eyes twitching back and forth, looking for an escape. Garrus was behind her, watching her 6. Shepard tried to be careful, happy that she had holstered her pistol on her back instead of at her side.

“Don’t come any- any closer! She wants to be left alone!”

Shepard felt her heart break. The neutral expression she tried to hold fell into one of hurt.

“Talitha, please, calm down. You know me. We grew up together. My name is Toni, don’t you remember? Toni Shepard. We had Miss Cash’s science class together. You had a dog named Rufus. You always wore bows in your hair.”

Mindoir was a faint distant memory that was drug to the surface violently.

The loud engines of the shuttles as the raiders touched down on their tiny farming community. Her mother, running in from checking the crops. Her father reached for his shotgun, hidden not-so-secretly under his desk in the front room. The screen of their data port flashed red and sirens went off simultaneously.

The neighbor’s dog, a little herder mutt that was always so sweet, yelped and barked as doors were pushed through and guns went off.

The sirens never stopped the whole time.

Shepard hid with her mother in the back shed, an old dilapidated thing that her father had said he would clear out, yet the weekend went by and it still stood for over two years.

The colony had been quiet when her mother left. Just to see if the raiders were gone and anyone was left. She had sat silently, waiting for the signal that everything was fine, that it was safe.

_The gun shot_.

Shepard could see it on her face, Talitha was slowly remembering.

The light shined through the dead eyes.

There were bad memories of Mindoir, but there were good ones too.

“Please, Talitha, I’m not going to hurt you. No one is ever going to hurt you again, I promise. Please, just put the gun down. Let’s get you something to eat. Remember pizza? I know the best place in the Citadel.”

It was working. Slowly but surely, it was working. She lowered the gun, eyes cast down but alive.

Shepard remembered seeing dead eyes staring back at her in the mirror every morning as she formed all of her hair into a tight bun that would meet regulations. She remembered seeing the flash of light that signaled she was still there, she was still sane.

“You’re _safe_ , Talitha. No more masters. No more burning or beating or wires, I promise.”

Shepard slowly, hesitantly, put her gloved hand on Talitha's shoulder and used the other to coax the pistol from her hand. “There you go, nice and easy. No one is going to hurt you, ‘Litha.”

Talitha’s eyes flashed upward, back to the same feral look she held just moments before. Shepard just watched, unable to move, as the girl pulled the pistol from Shepard and held it to her head. Her heart jumped up into her throat and she tried to push the weapon away.

_The gun shot._

_The screams for her mother. For her father. For her neighbors and teachers and the friends she played with every day after classes._

_They wished for death more than they wished for life._

_No._

“No one with hurt her again.”

“NO!”

Shepard flinched back as she felt the warmth of blood hit her face. Things then sped up; Talitha’s body slumped down against the crates. She could feel Garrus’ words in the air, but she couldn’t hear them. Just the loud blast of the gun. He pulled her away from the body, away from the smoking gun, turning her horrified eyes away from it.

"She- she- she-"

"I know, Shepard, I know. Deep breaths, come on, calm down."

Shepard shook in his arms, her armor clattering against his. Garrus' pur, the vibration of his subharmonics, eased her to calm down. She no longer gasped for air, trying to find the breath in her lungs. It was there, but it tasted of acid and metal. He brought his gloved hands up to wipe the smears of red blood from her face, and then took them off to stuff them away into a compartment in his armor to be thrown out later.

"Come on, Shepard, let's get out of here," he told her softly. Her ears still rung from the shot, the in-ears buzzing to balance out the sounds, and she could only nod.

If it weren't for the shock still set in her bones, Shepard could have showed her surprise that Garrus still had his apartment. The moment they were inside, he helped her from her armor and eased her into the shower. It had been a few weeks since he had been home, but it felt nice to be somewhere familiar.

He left her to clean herself, happy he had bought that soap for humans so long ago for her. This would be the first time she used it.

When he felt like she was taking too long, Garrus stood in the doorway, waiting. At a sudden crash, he rushed forward and opened the frosted glass to make sure she was okay. Shepard crumbled at the bottom of the shower stall, physically clean of dirt and grime and blood, but mentally forever stained. 

 

“Why did you want to be a C-Sec officer?”

The sharp tip of his talon paused from the circles he had been drawing on her hip. Then it continued as he situated them to be comfortable again. He knew she had woken up sometime during the night, but he wasn't sure when.

"I didn't."

Shepard gave a low snort of air.

"Really, I didn't. I was elected to go through Spectre training, along with thousands of other turians, but I wanted to do that more than anything. Get things done without having to worry about red tape and chains of command. I _was_ the command."

"What changed that?"

"My dad. He... didn't like Spectres. Still doesn't like Spectres. Says they're outlaws, criminals using the council as their mask for true intentions. I suppose that’s true for Saren but... Saren is one person. They're not all like that, are they?"

"You're asking the wrong person, Garrus."

Garrus looked down at her. Her hair was still damp from her shower, skin pale and sickly. Not the usual even tan he was used to seeing. He knew she was thirsting for her flask. The offending metal container was back on the ship, hidden in the supply closet.

"You're a good woman, Shepard. I don't care what anyone else says about you."

"Talking about me behind my back to Alenko?"

"He really likes you."

Shepard groaned and pressed her face against the soft bowl-like cushions of Garrus' bed. There was no laughter from the turian, and after a minute or so, she peaked out to look up at him. He was watching her with eyes so blue she could have drowned in them.

"I really like you."

It made her smile.

"I really like you, too."

Then, with as much effort as he could, Garrus gave his version of a smile to match her. The vibrations of his confession could be felt from her ears to her toes. Shepard laid down again, quiet, and the two slept.

 

“No, I will not sacrifice my pizza craving for your, whatever the heck that is.”

“Its -”

“No, don’t even try to explain it to me. Last time my translator fizzled out and all I heard was static for three minutes.”

“That was years ago, Shepard. They’ve upgraded the omni-translator since then.”

“Not going to risk it.”

Garrus' vibrations made her ear tickle and Shepard quickly shushed him. They had less than half of their shore leave left, but Shepard was going to get her greasy human food craving. She had been eating nothing but slop (when she did eat and not drink herself into a stupor) for weeks and she needed something warm and not still alive.

They moved carelessly, thoughtlessly, through the lower level of the Zakara ward, enjoying each other’s presence. To any regular person, they looked like close friends. To the turians that could hear Garrus’ low sounds, it was much, much more than that.

Shepard’s hand brushed against his fingers, and she looked sheepishly at him from the corner of her eye. He said nothing, as if not noticing, but the twitching mandible said otherwise.

“So, I get my pizza and you can get whatever you want – _except_ for the thing that sent my translator into a fritz. It smelled like wet cat food and sour milk.”

“I’ll have you know that it is a very popular dish in my colony.”

“If that colony consists of just you, okay, I can believe it.”

If Garrus could scoff, he would have. Instead, his subharmonics gave off a playfulness that only Shepard caught on to. To anyone, they looked like two soldiers arguing over meals as they enjoyed their shore leave. To a stranger-Turian, who happened to be passing by, he caught the skimming of the three-fingered hand grazing the human’s waist as they turned a corner. To a stranger-human, who watched the two enter the small café seating area, she noticed the closeness of the brunette’s body to the tall, limbering one of an ‘alien’.

To anyone, they were just a human and a turian, proving wrong what decades of wars said about the intergalactic relationship.

But in due time, they would all learn that there is no Shepard without Vakarian. 


	16. Vacant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very VERY mild spoilers for ME:Andromeda. Nothing major to the game's plot, just some small Ryder family things.

Shepard listened as Pressley went over the pre-flight plans. They had done a quick restock of dextro-friendly foods and ammo. (She would speak to Wrex about his 'target practice' later. This wasn't a summer camp, he needed to be mindful of what they had in their weapon's lockers. There was only so many thermal clips to go around.)

She dismissed her XO with a salute and eased out of it when he turned his back and walked toward the ship. It was going to be a long flight to Noveria. She had received word from Kohaku again and there was a message from Hackett sitting in her terminal that started with 'Batarians have captured an asteroid' and she didn't want to read the rest of it.

Add that to the growing hunger in her belly and pounding headache from a few-too many swipes of her flask, and anyone with eyes could see that Shepard was not in a good mood.

Shepard looked _stressed_. She was a fresh-new Commanding officer that was still getting use to ordering people around off the field and working out how to hunt down one of the top Spectres in the last few decades. Her back ached from how she slept the night before and she was dying of thirst (for water or alcohol she could not pinpoint).

She was stressed and tired and things didn't look good.

Until a warm chuckle washed over her in a blanket of nostalgia and almost-somethings. Her heavy look turned into a grin and she spun on her heel.

“Alec!”

The man had aged seriously during the time they had not been in contact, which was reaching on five years now. This man, as well as Anderson and a few others, was the reason she got as far as she did. She would have been happy with her N2 certs and 1st Lieutenant Rank had she not run into their group one day while on Earth.

They had been something of a legend. Part of the first class of N7 graduates to also fight in the First Contact War. The first of intergalactic solders. She had been a starry-eyed recruit listening to their stories, their history.

The main reason she even wanted to join the Alliance in the first place was, after the attack of her home on Mindoir, the only thing she remembered from her shell-shock state was the ebony and red armor of the N7 that carried her to the too-little-too-late transport that waited.

(White sheets covered a large field as they accounted for each body and those on the census that were missing. She was cold from the chilly morning air and lack of socks but the armor she was pressed into was warm and the voice speaking softly to her, 'It's okay, you're safe. We're going to take care of you. You're okay. You're safe,' was even warmer.)

Shepard smiled as she came up to the soldier, wrapping her arms around his back to clap him close to her. He did the same; his salty laugh easing her tension. When she pulled away, it was like all those years between their meeting never happened and they were back in Rio.

_She was fresh off the transport, still sporting wet medigel that had not quite set and a re-located shoulder that just didn’t feel right when she tried to raise her arm._

_They were standing on the docks,_ just as Alec was right now _, chatting amongst each other while they waited. Waited for what?_

_One of them nudged the other and pointed her way. She stumbled when all sets of eyes fall on her. Shepard glanced casually back, trying to see if it’s someone else they were looking at, but all she saw were dock hands quickly loading and unloading the cargo frigate she just hopped off of. They were looking at her?_

_The lieutenant did her best to play cool, checking her bun to make sure it would pass regs at the possibility of them casing her. So far so good._

_“Lieutenant Shepard?” Anderson called to her, and she quickened her pace to stand in front of them. Shepard snapped to a salute just a few feet away._

_“Sirs.”_

_One of them chuckled, murmuring something to the other._

_“At ease, Shepard,” Anderson said, and she relaxed into a stiff parade rest that had them all chuckling. “Any new assignments yet?”_

_“I have 48 hours of shore leave before I have to answer back if I want to continue on to N3 certs.” She paused, and added, “Sir.”_

_Anderson shook his head and did his best to relax her. “None of that ‘sir’ crap, Shepard. Just David, or Anderson. Whatever you’re comfortable with. We’re speaking soldier to soldier, I’m not going to pull rank.”_

_Her shoulders sagged and her hands came back to rest at her sides. “That’s a relief,” she said with a small tug of her lips. “Although, I’m curious as to why you’ve come to talk to me?”_

_“We saw the vids of your mission. You shouldn’t have made that jump, Shepard, but you’re made of tough stuff and we were impressed.”_

_Shepard felt her chest swell instantly. Impressed? A group of N7s and Contact War veterans were_ impressed _with her N2 course test? She didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to be said._

_The one on the far right, dark hair and crow’s feet pulling at his eyes, smirked at her change in demeanor._

_“I…thank you, sir. It means a lot to hear that coming from you. Any of you. I…” She ran a hand over the back of her neck, swiping at the nervous sweat that sat there. “I’ve been debating about not continuing with my N-school certs, to be completely honest. My tour-end is coming up and I thought I might go ahead and retire, try and find me someone to settle down with. Ever since Akuze, I-“ Her throat tightens and just the mention of the attack leaves her in dark memories._

_“I’m not going to try and persuade you to continue, Shepard,” David started, waving his hand in front of him to clear the proverbial air. “But that was damn good stuff. Using your last missile as a way to propel yourself over that drop? You’re resourceful and know how to get that job done with what you’re limited with. I know recruits in our class that would have turned around and went to find a crossing further down, but not you. I saw that look on your face. Your determination is unparalleled. You’ll go far in the Alliance, hell, in the galaxy, with whatever you decide to do.”_

_Shepard didn’t know how to reply._

_“You’re not a stay at home house wife,” the dark haired one started. “You’ll miss the action and regret leaving early. But you may also meet an early grave with being in the military. Every day is a risk.”_

_“Just makes it more fun.” She answered without a pause, not catching the words until they were_ all _smirking._

_“That’s the soldier I want as my XO.”_

_Her heart stopped._

_“Come again?”_

_Anderson nodded. “You heard me, Shepard. You finish out your N-school training, I don’t care_ what _ranking you receive as long as you go as far as you can. Do another tour or two, get your feet wet with some star dust, and I’ll let you be my XO on my ship. Deal?”_

 _The lieutenant stared at the gloved hand he held out for her. He had offered her a deal of a lifetime. He offered her a future and something to look forward to. And all it took was her stupidity in jumping over a twenty foot wide chasm and using a rocket launcher to push her the rest of the way over to grab onto the ledge. It had been a risky move, a_ foolish _move that her instructor yelled at her for, but she passed with a fifteen second lead on everyone else and a new record made for the school. (She could have done better but she had difficulty pulling herself up the ledge one-handed while sporting a dislocated shoulder.)_

_Her hand grasped his and shook firmly. It jarred the nerves but she only grit her teeth._

_“Deal.”_

_Four hands all came clasping down onto her shoulders, shaking her and clapping her back like she was one of them. “First round is on me!” one of them said, and the soldiers walked toward the city with her bright future on the horizon._

"Found anymore lava rivers to jump over, Shepard?"

She laughed, a true laugh that made her belly and cheeks hurt, before shaking her head. "No, none of those recently. We're headed to the icy tundra of Noveria, though. I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to build snowmen and make snow angels."

His crow's feet crinkled eyes wrinkled even more. "Smart ass."

She hugged him, happy to see a familiar face after the mess that had gone on with Anderson and the council when she was given the mission to stop Saren.

"What are you doing on the Citadel?"

His happy look fell. He glanced over her shoulder before pulling her to the side and out of ear from the dockhands and her crew.

"Ellen isn't doing too well. She... she's at Huerta right now. They say there's not much time left."

Shepard feared for his next words. Things had been... tense since they last saw each other.

When you sleep with a married man, things like that happen.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Alec."

Alec Ryder had been a man that Shepard saw as a confidant. A friend that welcomed her into his family as if she was his own and then lifted her up during the moments that felt as if she had hit rock bottom.

_But we had just a little too much to drink that night._

Shepard did everything she could not to stare at him, to recognize how handsome he was even with gray peaking around his temples and the darkness of war deep in his frown.

His hands moved to touch her like he used to, to remember her scars and her beauty and the little young thing that kept _him_ young. She cleared her throat.

"How are your kids?" (She tried to remind herself of why things hadn't worked out.) They had to be teenagers now, probably older. She hadn't seen the twins in almost a decade; it was just after she met him.

They danced round each other for a few years before her training became more important and his... 'project' had troubles getting funding. It was around the time that he asked her for a small 'loan' that she ended things between them. Before it became more than a few hours shared during shore leave. Before them bumping into each other during missions became more than watching each other's 6, and getting in a peck when no one else was watching.

She had to remind herself why she left.

"They're good." He nodded, reminding himself, too, why she left. "Shay is out escorting an archival team near Terminus. Can't keep that girl out of a fight to save my life." She chuckled with him. "Sam is out looking for a bounty hunter that's made a mess of some Alliance missions. Or that's the last I heard, at least."

She nodded and found herself looking at his armor; looking at anything but his face. They were older than she remembered. Alliance, like their dad, probably. Working missions. Shepard tilted her head. The armor he wore was... off. The usual dark charcoal gray that he had worn for years, was missing. The red of his right arm? The tell-tale pistol always on his right hip?

The N7 insigna.

 _That's_ what was missing.

"New armor?" She raised a brow and finally looked him in the eye. He had aged, but it was only then she saw _just how much_. He looked older. _Ashamed_.

"You didn't hear..."

She almost didn't hear him then his voice was so low.

"Hear what?"

Shepard watched the swallow bob down his throat. He was quiet far longer than she appreciated.

"I was dishonorably discharged three years ago."

How had she  _not_ heard something like that? Surely Anderson would have told her. Filled her in. 

"No." She whispered after just a few moments, eye wide and jaw lax. Not Alec. Of all people... _What had he done?_ "I have to go."

She didn't give him time to protest. She disappeared into the _Normandy_ and the airlock closed tight behind her.

As they took back the asteroid from the batarian pirates, everyone on her ground team noted how spaced Shepard was looking. She was shot more than once, all times that were easily missed if she had been paying attention. If she watched the pirates and not just simply looked at them.

And when they were back on the ship, heading towards Noveria to see what Liara’s mother was up to, every ping from her omnitool or terminal had her flinching.

She didn’t talk to Garrus.

She wouldn’t even _look_ at him.

Had he said something? Done something?

There was no label on… whatever they were. But Garrus wasn’t familiar with a lot of human customs. Had he missed a sign? Garrus was tempted to ask Joker but thought best not too. He didn’t even entertain the idea of asking Alenko; the lieutenant was not shy about his crush on the commander.

But Garrus would not let this go. Shepard was going to talk to him. Communication was key in any relationship.

When Williams passed by him on her way out of the mess, he quickly followed her to the elevator.

“Need something, Vakarian?” she asked, nonchalant about his urgency to get the elevator doors closed.

“I need to talk to you about Shepard.”

 

FROM: Shepard  
TO: Anderson  
SUBJECT: When...  
were you going to tell me?

FROM: Anderson  
TO: Shepard  
SUBJECT: re: When...  
Tell you about what? 

FROM: Shepard  
TO: Anderson  
SUBJECT: Alec  
[this message was purposefully left blank]

FROM: Anderson  
TO: Shepard  
SUBJECT: re: Alec  
I was only trying to protect you. He's not sound of mind, Shepard. He's not the Alec we knew. 

FROM: Shepard  
TO: Anderson  
SUBJECT: re: re: Alec  
If you truly wished to protect me, you should have left me on Mindoir. 


End file.
